


Sweet Salvation

by Dreamer_88



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 115,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_88/pseuds/Dreamer_88
Summary: She’s looking for something to brighten her future. Blake is looking for a place where he can stand under the sun. 90 days might make it happen.





	1. Boat Trapped In A Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another AU. In this particular story, Gwen isn't famous, but she's a very successful writer in the pop field. Blake is just starting to have huge success as a country artist. 
> 
> This story might not be updated as frequently as the ones I've written before, but I'm excited to start this new journey regardless. 
> 
> Comments make my day, so feel free to give me your thoughts..

Blake scoffs at his ridiculousness, his body fighting against the cold from the night, his thumb and index finger rubbing slow circles against each other. Brandon takes the nearly burned out cigarette from his mouth, dropping it to the concrete outside of the café and casually crushes it beneath his shoe.

“Not a habit you should return to.” Blake murmurs with a quirk of his brow as he glances down, the black ashes forming a small spot on the ground.

“Still not my keeper, Blake.” His manager retorts softly, unimpressed.

A firm headshake is the only thing his remark causes from the tall Southerner, their bond a special yet strange one. Both have seen each other in the darkest moments life had to offer, and if his manager wasn’t also his best friend, he knows for sure he wouldn’t have lasted longer than a week in this industry.

“Are you gonna tell me why I’m standing here with you, instead of spending the evening with my fiancée?” Blake asks finally, blowing out the bitter smoke his friend just made him inhale by lighting his cigarette damn near in his face.

Brandon nods. “Sorry ‘bout that, by the way.”

He waves off his apology, both a hint of annoyance and amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give it to me straight.”

His manager frowns. “You say that like I’m about to give you bad news.”

“You aren’t?”

There’s only a few times his manager had demanded to meet him on one of his off days; none of them had consisted of receiving good news, and he’d started to mentally prepare himself for the worst already. He’s tried to think of possible disappointments he could be hit with today, but considering the taking off of his career and recent celebration of his fifth number one in country music, there’s really not much to complain about these days.

“I’m not here to drop a bomb on you, dumbass.” Brandon smiles, reaching deep into his pocket to retrieve another cigarette, earning a deep grunt from Blake.

“I’ve lost at least three years of my life standing here with you.”

Brandon snorts, rolling his eyes. He makes a dramatic gesture as he drops the nicotine bomb back into his jacket.

“Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

“Seriously man, I’m here because I want to talk to you about your next album.”

Blake’s eyes ripple with surprise and detest, ready to go off in less than a second.

“You’re telling me you got me in trouble with my girl just to talk about something you could’ve _easily_ waited with until next week? You know I just got engaged, right? I’m supposed to be there whenever I can, not cancel on her on one day’s notice.”

“Just hear me out.” Brandon cuts in, his features still excited, and it confuses Blake greatly. “You talked about wanting to write more, get in touch with that side of your artistry and I think I have the perfect opportunity for you. Something new, something outside of your comfort zone.”

Blake shakes his head, realizing protesting isn’t gonna get him anywhere. Instead he throws his hands up in defeat, deciding to take the moment to hear him out.

“Sure, yeah, I said that. What opportunity are you talking about, though?”

“There’s this L.A writer who’s been penning some of the most prominent pop hits lately. She wants to expend her horizons and work with some different artists. She’s moving out here for three months and I got her to agree to working with you for your next project.”

“You said she’s a pop artist.”

“I’ll send you a list of songs she’s written. Trust me, it’ll take you less than a minute to realize she’s much more than just some generic pop writer.”

“What makes you think this is a good fit? I’m just saying, this sounds weird and forced. I thought you were gonna get me in the studio with Eric and Chris?”

“Who you’ve worked with for most of your debut album.” Brandon says calmly, tilting his head to study the cynical expression claiming Blake’s features. “Your career is taking off, people are paying attention—this is the perfect time to make a statement, to expand your brand.”

“To the pop world?” Blake cuts in sarcastically. “No thank you.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Brandon scolds him quickly, something the tall man had been no stranger to in the past. “This is why I asked you out here; I knew this was gonna take some convincing and we just don’t have that kind of time.”

“What are you talking about?” Blake asks.

“If you say yes, I can get you in the studio with her two days from now. All she asks for is confirmation about this collaboration.”

Blake frowns. “When does she need an answer?”

“Tonight.”

Blake chuckles, shaking his head.

“Tell her no. Tell her that we appreciate the offer, but we’ve decided on taking a different route.”

“She didn’t offer.” Brandon corrects him, reaching for his abandoned cigarette in his pocket anyways and ignoring Blake’s stare as he lights it. “I learned of her and reached out myself. I think this will be great for you.”

The few drags from Brandon’s cigarette annoy Blake even further, and he scoffs uncomfortably on his feet, breathing past the foggy smell of smoke as the wind directs it back into his face.

“Do I even have a choice?”

“Just do me a favour and give her a chance. If it doesn’t work you can always decide to work with someone else.”

“How long did you say she was gonna be here for?” Blake asks softly, his voice a low murmur.

“Three months. If you use it right, you could have close to an album worth of songs by the end of it.”

Blake sighs, the whole idea feeling quite ridiculous and he’s not at all excited to compromise what he’s been working so hard to obtain, for it all to go down the drain when the public finds out he’s compromising his country sound to appeal to a larger market.

“I’m not recording anything that’s not country.” He states determinedly, slowly starting to give into his manager’s request.

“Good. This isn’t about changing your sound. It’s about working with someone else to gain a different perspective on your lyrics.”

“And you’re sure she’s gonna see it that way, too?” Blake asks, raising his brows.

“She didn’t have many expectations; she definitely didn’t sound like someone waiting to change someone into something they’re not.”

Blake takes a deep breath, his whole life starting to feel like a movie he doesn’t understand. The plot clear to him when he started it, but the twists and turns making the ending an unfamiliar and out of sight thing. He should be happy, he should be celebrating, he should be at home with his fiancée, but instead he’s thinking of ways to make his life _his_ again; the splinters of his heart will undoubtedly come out in these writing sessions, and the thought of doing that with someone he knows _nothing_ about…it’s almost too insane to take seriously.

His manager still seems oblivious to his inner turmoil, and it kills him that even his best friend doesn’t know all that much about his life anymore.

“Fine.” Blake finally exclaims, the tangled web that’s his mind tired of thinking, tired of fighting. “But if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. I’m not gonna force anything.”

“A chance is all I’m asking for.”

Blake nods. “Alright then, tell her it’s on.”

“I’ll text her right now. I’ll call you later about the specifics; when and where, all that good stuff.”

“This was certainly an interesting meeting.”

“Go home to Ran, enjoy the remaining of your evening; drink some wine, make love—whatever makes you lose this grumpiness.”

No matter how much he wants to punch his friend in the face right now, he can’t help the smile that creeps on his features.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Brandon pats him on the shoulder, crushing the third cigarette in less than twenty minutes beneath his shoe.

“I love you too, brother man.”

Checking his phone, he realizes he’s got two missed calls from his girlfriend and he knows the cancellation of their evening together hasn’t exactly made him popular in her eyes. He bites his lip before saying another quick goodbye to his friend, the chilliness of the night only adding to his tense mood. He rubs his index finger and thumb together again, the anxiety tick something he obtained over the last few weeks. The drive back to his place is filled with only two thoughts; ways to apologize to his fiancée and the anxiety about the woman who’s about to get a front row seat to his fucked up feelings.

*

The studio is cold and quiet, with a lack of life. Usually she would hate quietness like this, but now she actually _craves_ it. The first thing she did when getting to her temporarily apartment in Nashville was lay down in the middle of the couch and absorb herself with the silence. She desperately needed a break from LA, every haunting memory of lost love and missed opportunities making it suffocating to be there. Moving here for a few months allows her to be somewhat unknown, no ties to the people here whatsoever. Here she can be Gwen with a clean slate, here she can be Gwen without all the damage.

She’d gotten dressed quickly before making her way down to the studio early. She fussed over her hair before managing to tie it back into a loose bun that looks far more artful than it is, and only a touch of make-up. She silently curses herself for choosing to wear the heels that make her feet hurt instantly, but she figures she’ll be distracted from the pain when she starts making music. If not, the pain will at least distract her from what she’s left behind in California.

She doesn’t know what to expect from working with Blake. She’d looked into him after getting approached by his manager about a week ago, and there was no denying that he had something going for him, an undeniable charm and raw talent that was rare to come across. Though she doesn’t know the last thing about country music, she thinks they could quite possibly work together on some lyrics, at least. Meeting any new people wasn’t high on her wish list lately, though. She feels the nerves come back at that thought, causing her to crash down onto the small black couch as she waits.

She sighs at herself, feeling ridiculous for getting nervous about meeting him. She’s written for more people than she can count, and she’s always been able to connect with them on some level. Being social has never been a problem for her, but lately she can’t seem to keep a conversation going. She hopes today will turn that around for her, a new scenery might just be the trick to get her back to the basics.

It’s 11 AM on the dot when the door opens, his punctuality at least working in his favour. She pushes herself off the couch, squinting her eyes as his tall figure becomes apparent in the rather small, dimly lit room. He’s even taller than from what she’d seen in pictures, and there was no way she could’ve known the intensity of his blue eyes. His smile seems a bit rehearsed when he’s faced with her, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s just as bad at this as she is.

Holding her hand out, she manages at a chipper smile, hoping to affect his mood in a positive way.

“You must be Blake. Hi, I’m Gwen.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

His handshake is firm, yet gentle and there’s a part of her that’s suddenly disappointed he didn’t go for a hug instead, and she has no idea what that’s about. She swallows roughly, pointing towards the couch.

“I decided to make myself at home already, I hope you don’t mind.”

Blake walks over to where she’s been siting for the last forty minutes or so, and when the scent of a mixture of herbs and cinnamon reach his nostrils, his face turns towards the lounge table next to the couch. Her eyes follow his and hers widen.

“Uhm, I lighted one of my favorite candles. I like to have those here when I write, it’s sort of a good luck thing. Do you mind?” Her voice is suddenly nerve stricken. “I probably should’ve waited, shit, you could be allergic or something.”

Blake chuckles. “I’m not, and no I don’t mind. It’s just…different.”

She nods. “This whole thing is pretty different for us both.”

He sits down next to her and his frame takes up most of the small couch, and it’s weird and terrifying how she doesn’t seem to miss her space at all. If anything, she’s quite grateful for the added closeness; something about him making her feel more comfortable without even uttering any words.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Blake adds, sitting back and allowing his eyes to scan over the small but cosy room.

“Do you usually not record here?” She asks, noticing the way he’s checking out his surroundings.

Blake shakes his head. “My go-to producers have a build in studio, so we usually book our time there. We sometimes use the one on Broadway too if it’s not jam-packed with sessions already, but this one, can’t say I’ve been here before.”

“I just want you to know that I’m not here to alter your sound in any way. I just want to add to your lyrics, maybe bounce some ideas off you, but it’s _your_ music, _your_ sound.”

She doesn’t know why she suddenly felt the need to emphasize that, but she knows how fickle artist can be, and the last thing she wants to do is step on his toes. One thing she’s learned by being a writer is that sessions do not work when egos are involved, which is why she makes sure she always leaves hers at the door before entering a session.

“Thank you. I’ve done some research on you and your repertoire—it’s quite impressive.”

She smiles. “It almost sounds like you expected to find the opposite to be true.”

“Will we start off on the wrong foot if I say maybe?”

She chuckles. “No, I like the honesty. That’s exactly what we need to make some dope songs.”

“Good.”

“But…” She counters, looking at him with a bit more seriousness this time. “I have done this enough to know I’m good at what I do. I don’t need you to kiss my ass, but I do need a fair chance. I can’t do my job without it.”

Blake’s face portrays a bit of surprise and admiration and she exhales a bit more easily when she realizes she just gained his respect.

“I hear you. Honestly, this writing thing is obviously more your thing than it is mine.”

“We can just talk a bit, get to know each other. Whenever you have an idea, you just let me know and I’ll try to give my best input. I’m just here to add something to your words that maybe you haven’t thought about yet.”

“Is that how you usually start your sessions?”

“These aren’t _my_ sessions, Blake. They’re ours. And yes, I usually start off getting to know the artist I’m working with on a more personal level. Some artist like to play some melodies to get the creativity going, others like to keep talking and write from conversation…. I see you brought your guitar.”

Her eyes linger on his guitar case in between his legs.

“I’m a simple country boy, it’s how I write most of my songs.”

“I always wished I could play an instrument.”

“You don’t?” Blake asks genuinely surprised. “You just write your songs from the top of your head?”

“Much like you.” She answers. “You just have your guitar to play melodies. I hear them in my head and then just start writing to it.”

“You _hear_ melodies?”

“All artists are a little crazy.” She retorts amused.

He chuckles. “Touché.”

It’s not that hard from there to start conversation, and she gains confidence quickly enough. She didn’t quite know what she expected from what she’d heard about him before, but he quickly shatters the illusion he’s just this country boy lacking much substance. He’s not in any way melodramatic like most artists she’s worked with, and it’s almost surprising. She started to think all writers must be a little dramatic to get their thoughts out poetically, but Blake has a way of talking to her in the rawest form, lacking all dramatics, but holding a sincerity that has her slightly intimidated.

She learns that he’s very close to his family, and that he’s refrained from writing too much since the beginning of his career; feeling like he’s a singer first and foremost and not wanting to get in the way of a good song when he knows others can do it better. His humility is refreshing, but his distinctive insecurities don’t go unnoticed. She learns he’s engaged, but he doesn’t dive much deeper into that subject. She frowns at the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach as he shared that piece of information with her. She didn’t ask more about it either, pretty sure it will all come out in the music. She learns that he uses humour to deflect, but that he’s also naturally witty; a combination that has her mind reeling sometimes, but have her cheeks hurting already from the times he’s made her smile.

Due to their easy flowing conversation, the sudden silence becomes even more apparent.

“What are you thinking?” She asks determinedly, her eyes locking onto the side of his face. “Let me hear it.”

“No lyrics.” He says with a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in the sound.

“That’s okay. Tell me what _is_ on your mind.”

He looks at her, something in his eyes telling her she’s onto something. She feels like a dog with a bone, feeling a little bad about pushing him when there’s obviously something he’s trying to hold back.

“It’s just weird having these conversations with you.” He confesses, staring aimlessly at the wall in front of him. “I haven’t talked like this with someone in a long time.”

She cocks her head, expecting to find the beginnings of a smirk or the sound to the start of a joke, but instead his features remain stoic and his gaze remains adverted in front of him.

“You don’t talk to your friends, your girlfriend?”

His gaze swivels back to her, his eyes lined with something painful. She realizes she might’ve gone there too quickly and she wants to backtrack, but he beats her to it.

“Uhm, yeah we do, forget it.”

“Blake.”

“Can I play you something?” He asks, uncasing his guitar and tuning the instrument until he stops wincing at the sounds it produces.

She nods softly, realizing this is Blake showing her this is as far as he’s gonna get into that subject. She’s already thinking of ways she must push these boundaries at some point.

“Sure, whatever feels the most natural to you.”

Blake nods, strumming quietly.

The sound has a hypnotic, soothing quality. Something she hadn’t heard enough of lately, and she’s torn between wanting him to play on forever and feeling the need to think of ways to come up with ideas. The way he seems to lose himself in music reminds her of herself, the kind of magic you just can’t fake, and she can’t understand how someone this honest and this in touch with their soul, could have trouble talking to anyone.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He admits after playing the same verse for the third time.

“Is this an existing song?”

He shakes his head.

“You made it up just now?” She asks, a smile coming to her lips.

“Yeah, why?”

“Sounds to me like inspiration just hit. Do you have anything in mind while playing it?”

For a moment it looks like he’s thinking, but he lets go of the thought quickly.

“Not really, just some scattered thoughts and words.”

She doesn’t know him long enough to know how to deal with his disassociating, and it’s still the weirdest combination; his honesty and the sudden walls he puts up. She’s here to do a job though, and this is the time to prove to Blake she’s not just talk; she _is_ good at what she does.

“Give me some of those words, then. Come on Blake, I know you’re thinking of some things; it’s literally how the human mind works.”

“What are _you_ thinking about then?” He asks, turning the question around on her with a quickness that’s impressive.

“What do I think about when I hear this melody?” She repeats, giving the question honest thought and attention. “Pain. Loneliness. Maybe a hint of nostalgia; it reminds me of summers that ended too quickly and people who slipped away without giving us closure.”

Blake’s stare is intense, his eyes sparkling with something she can’t read. His jaw is tense and she wants to reach out and smooth her fingers along his cramped jaw, sooth him. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked with his and tries not to get nervous when he grows a bit agitated.

“Is this your idea of making people feel comfortable?”

“I never said I was here to make you feel comfortable, I said I was here to hear you out and not change your sound.”

He shakes his head, raking a hand through his curls.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” He says before putting his guitar down. His legs carry him over to the other side of the room, his hand once again dishevelling his hair.

She lets him work it out for a second, whatever that might be. After a few minutes, she joins him at his side of the room, her shoulder leaning against the wall as she looks at him.

“Blake, are there any subjects that are off limits to you?”

He looks at her a bit incredulously and she can sense a short reply coming, and it surprises her when instead he stays quiet.

“Cause I won’t push you if there are, but from my personal experience, writing is much easier when you allow yourself to just throw all caution to the wind.”

“Nothing’s off limits, Gwen.”

“But obviously _something_ is. Whenever we get close to whatever _that_ is, we stumble against a wall the size of a damn fortress.”

She doesn’t dare to say what she thinks the subject is, though it’s pretty clear.

“Nothing’s off limits.” He repeats annoyed. “I just barely know you.”

She nods, trying to tread lightly; his answer might not be ideal, but it’s definitely something she can work with.

“Okay.” She concedes, walking back towards the couch and sitting down. “Let’s talk. Any question you have, I’ll answer.”

“It’s not gonna work.” He repeats, not making a move to stray from where he’s currently standing.

“Is that what you want?” She asks sharply. “For this not to work? Cause if so, you’re wasting both of our time.”

“I’m not someone who begged to work with you, Gwen. My manager sought you out, and _you_ said yes. I’m not the one who got you here, and I damn sure didn’t make you any promises; if you’re disappointed by what you’re getting, that’s not on me.”

She lets the words hang in the air for a second, a small smile coming to her lips, causing Blake to raise his brows.

“What’s so funny?” He asks annoyed.

“It’s just…” She shakes her head. “You’re trying so hard to fight this and It’s finally dawning on me why that is.”

He scoffs. “Yeah? And what analysation did you just come up with?”

“You’re scared.” She states. “You’re scared you’re gonna disappoint me because we’re different and you're masking your insecurities by pretending you don't want to work outside your comfort zone.”

“Gwen….” He starts, his voice reluctant.

She brushes off whatever is gonna come next, sitting back comfortably as she keeps her gaze on him.

“Sit down, Blake.” She pats the space next to her, not interested in debating this any longer. “Sit down and let’s talk.”


	2. Can’t Find the Place Your Heart Is Hiding

“We can talk about her, you know?” He states softly, looking directly at her, the intimacy of it no longer scaring him. “It’s just, you’re gonna hear some stuff, and you’re gonna think that things aren’t good. They are, I mean not _all_ the time, but most of the time. It’s just stuff I think about.”

She nods, no judgement to be found in her eyes and Blake exhales in relief.

“Every relationship has its flaws; it would be dumb of me to make any assumptions off the little fragments you decide to share with me.”

He flicks his eyes to the red of her lips, curved up into a sincere smile. He doesn’t know what it is about her that’s so damn alluring, so comfortable. She had shared more with him than he initially though she would; the history of her love life, her career and her beliefs and morals are all information he now possesses. He wanted to ask her for the exact reason she decided to move out here, but after her graciousness in letting him in on so much of her personal life, it felt wrong to ask for more. He doubts a messy breakup from eight months ago could be the sole reason for her moving—to Nashville out of all places.

“It’s weird to think you know more about me than some people I’ve known for years.” Blake chuckles, rubbing his thumb and index finger together again, involuntarily. “Anyone ever tell you how weird that is?”

“Yeah, most people make me sign none disclosure agreements before every session, actually.”

Blake’s eyes widen. “They do?”

“No!” She punches him lightly in the shoulder, shaking her head. “Jesus, songwriting takes a bit of trust. You really aren’t big on that, are you?”

“What, I didn’t say _I_ would make you sign a NDA.”

She huffs. “What if I told you that you could?”

He squints. “Could I?”

“Definitely not.”

He can’t help but laugh then. This woman is different from anything he’s ever known, her good mood infectious and her honesty refreshing in the best of ways.

“Didn’t think so.”

“You wanna play me something else?” She asks then, nodding to his guitar.

He picks the instrument up from where it’s sitting against his leg, the familiar feeling of the strings beneath his fingertips causing music to flow immediately. He’d kind of felt like he lost the ability to just let music transcend him somewhere else, strumming without the thought of needing to get anything out of it. She just wanted him to play, to _feel_ the music, and then let it lead him to whatever place it would take him. It was exhilarating.

He suddenly stops the slow strumming, motioning for the paper next to her.

“Can you hand me that?” He asks quickly, and her eyes sparkle when she realizes what he’s asking for. She all but pushes the notebook in his hands, scrambling to find her pen as she hands that over too.

“Inspiration?”

He nods. “Only a little.”

“A little is good. A little is a beginning.”

He smiles, the woman’s never ending positivity doing wonders for his confidence.

“It’s just a rough draft.” He says while writing down a few sentences, his tongue pushing against the back of his teeth. Gwen stays quiet as she watches him write, her neck straining a bit as she tries to catch a peek. After the third time of catching her do that, he sets the pen down and looks at her with a smirk.

“You’re gonna hurt your neck doing that, darling.”

“I want to see.”

“Can you at _least_ let me finish my sentence?”

There’s no malice in his tone, if anything, he finds amusement in her impatience. It’s a side he hasn’t seen from her yet—she’s been incredibly collected and patient with him for the hours he’s known her, and it was almost funny to see her cracking a bit; some of her polished demeanour finally falling away, a more childlike, more playful version showing its face. He finishes up his final thoughts, scanning over the piece of paper before sliding it towards her.

“Be nice.” He warns before she starts reading.

She smiles. “Aren’t I always?”

“I really don’t know you long enough to commit to a statement like that.”

“Oh shut up and let me read.”

He’s embarrassed to admit that watching her read his words causes his palms to get a bit sweaty, his body feeling heavy against the couch cushion. He didn’t write nearly enough for her to be reading this long and it takes him less than a second to form an assumption.

“You don’t like it.”

She looks up at him, the expression on her face hard to read.

“Blake…” She shakes her head, biting her lips before letting them curve up into a smile. “This is amazing. If this is how all your rough drafts turn out, we’re gonna have a _real_ easy time making this album.”

“You like it?”

“Did you hear what I just said?” She smiles. “Yes, I like it. I love it, actually.”

“Isn’t it too…dark?”

She chuckles, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It’s not a happy song, but it’s real. I’ll take that over fake happy any time.”

“We just got engaged.” He says, finally deciding to let her in some more, risking getting judged for it. “I love her, I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

Gwen’s gaze is an honest one, almost making him want to look away. He knows that if he does, she’ll just demand his attention again. Instead, he dares to keep their gazes locked.

“Do you feel like she judges you?”

“I feel like she doesn’t understand me, which is weird considering she’s in this industry as well.”

He feels the throbbing of his heart painfully against his chest, feeling weird about it as soon as the words escape him. Part of him feels bad for sharing this information with someone else, another woman at that, but this is what she’s here to do; help him write better songs.

“Are you jealous of her success?”

The question causes his head to whisk around so quickly, he’s pretty sure he injured his neck in the process. He’s torn between wanting to get angry and feeling slightly humanized in the way she doesn’t treat him with kid’s gloves.

“Hell no, I want her to have all the success in the world.” He says only slightly defensive.

“Is she jealous of yours?”

The question hits him like a freight train, and he rubs his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stall. This woman shouldn’t be this good at reading him, at understanding him.

“I, no…” The words stammer out of his mouth and he hates how he’s unable to keep his composure, to keep her from seeing the truth. “Not really, I mean, I don’t think so.”

Her features soften, her eyes going back to the paper in her lap.

“You don’t have to tell me out loud, you know?” She says softly, pushing the words he had just written back onto his lap. “Just write it down.”

“I don’t have anything else in me.”

“It’s cause you’re thinking too much.”

He scoffs, nodding.

“You have any solutions for that?”

She must catch the sarcasm in his voice, but she doesn’t get deterred by it at all. Instead, she smiles even wider, biting her lip.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She says proudly. “Play something for me.”

He cocks his head. “Play what?”

“Anything. Doesn’t matter.”

There’s no way he’s gonna miss out on whatever she’s cooking up in that damn intriguing mind of hers. His fingers start lightly strumming the strings of his guitar again, working up a basic rhythm, picking up a bit of speed when he finds the right melody. He’s halfway convinced he’s heard the song before somewhere, but he can’t for the life of him remember what it was. All thought flies out of the window anyways when Gwen pushes herself off the couch and starts moving to the melody he produces. Her body starts swaying to the upbeat country song he’s playing. Her movements aren’t necessarily pretty and he doesn’t think it’s meant to be, either. It is equally breathtaking though.

When her hips start swaying and her arms wave above her head, somehow still on beat, he finally speaks up.

“What are you doing?” His eyes are glued to her every movement, his fingers continuing to strum while he talks loud enough to be heard over the music.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing.”

He chuckles. “I can see that, but why?”

“Cause you need to get out of your head and I feel like dancing.” The words escape her like they’re the most obvious thing, her hips still swaying, her arm movements causing her shirt to ride up just enough to reveal a small strip of flesh above her waist. “Do you mind?”

He can barely think, let alone formulate words, but somehow he manages.

“Does it look like I mind?”

She moves a bit closer, standing right in front of him as she continues, her teeth biting down into her bottom lip again.

“I don’t know, you’re a hard guy to read at times.”

Her movements are so natural, it almost doesn’t look real. She’s a piece of art in motion and he’s helpless as he falls victim to his own desires. Desires he can never speak or act on.

“Keep going.”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to say that, and he doesn’t know what possesses her to listen. He’s finding out that Gwen’s weird and quirky in the most endearing ways, all the while possessing elegance and sex-appeal. Her movements mirror all that and more.

He wouldn’t say she’s the best dancer he’s ever seen, but he’d spent good money to watch her dance all night.

It’s like a different persona comes out when she’s being watched like that, and it makes him wonder if she’s ever thought about being more than just a writer; wonders if she ever thought about getting on that stage herself. He doesn’t even know if she sings, she didn’t say and he didn’t ask, but the way she basically breathes music would make him genuinely surprised to hear she doesn’t. She makes for the most vibrant picture like this and he genuinely hates himself when he stops playing.

“You know what I just realized?” He asks a bit hoarsely, clearing his throat before she answers.

“No, what?”

“That wasn’t an existing song I just played.”

Her eyes widen before her hands clap together, the way an excited child would, and he chuckles.

“I told you!” She squeaks. “When you get out of your head, magic happens.”

“You could say that.”

At this point, he’s not sure _what_ he’s talking about anymore, and it terrifies him enough to initiate a small break.

“I’m gonna need a drink if we keep going.”

Gwen laughs loudly, letting her body fall back into the couch.

“This early?”

Her voice sounds a little breathy, as she regains her composure.

“Is it passed twelve o’clock?”

She chuckles, checking her phone to give him an accurate update.

“It’s 4 PM.”

“Late enough for me.” He stands up quickly, carefully placing the guitar in its holder against the wall. He dares to look down at Gwen’s smaller frame on the couch again. “Any requests?”

She shakes her head. “You pick something, just don’t take too long.”

He frowns. “Didn’t you say we had all day booked here?”

“Yeah, but time is money.”

“You’ve written about a million hits; something tells me you’ll be fine.”

She laughs the prettiest sound.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He smiles brightly, and it’s weird how Gwen has been responsible for every smile reaching his eyes today.

“I saw a store right across from here when I drove up. I’ll be right back.”

*

He’d been quick as promised, the nearest store not further than five minutes away. He wonders why he isn’t immediately greeted with some type of response when he walks in, but he realizes quickly that she’s still unaware of his presence. Instead of sitting _on_ the couch, she’s now sitting in front of it, her back leaning against the front. The sight that really throws him off though, is his guitar in her hands. She must’ve made herself at home and figured he’d be fine with her taking the delicate instrument and making it her own for a bit. She’d figured right.

He remembers her saying she doesn’t play, and from the sounds of it, she’s indeed not playing much. There’s a simple set of chords she keeps repeating, her tongue peeking out from between those stunning red lips, and her face utterly focused. He can’t help but smile at the sight, everything this girl does taking his breath away.

He doesn’t have the heart to make his presence known and undoubtedly stop her. He doesn’t care about standing there awkwardly, a plastic bag in his right hand. He stays standing there for another minute, smiling when she mutters a quiet ‘_god damnit_’ at messing up a chord, fumbling a little bit before she finds the melody again. He’s surprised she’d figured out how to play it in the first place, and there must be a story there because there’s no way she just picked that up in the hours of hearing him play. It’s when her strumming slows down and her fingers still against the snares, that he clears his throat, careful not to startle her.

“I didn’t know you played.”

She looks behind her a bit embarrassed, adverting her gaze away from him.

“I’m sorry I just took it.” She refers to the guitar, wincing a little. “I couldn’t help myself.”

He waves off her apology, setting the bag down and lowering himself next to her. His joints are definitely gonna kill him later for sitting on the carpeted floor, but he can’t find it within himself to care right now.

“Don’t worry about it, you look good with a guitar.”

She laughs. “Did you start drinking without me?”

His smile starts to actually hurt his cheeks now, his hand reaching for the bag in front of them as he retrieves a large bottle of vodka and a bag of nacho chips. Gwen’s loud laugh causes her to snort a little at the end and he looks surprised yet amused.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are.” She retorts quickly, bumping into his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You told me I could choose.”

“I’m starting to realize I might’ve made a mistake by saying that.”

He raises his index finger like he suddenly remembers something, pulling the final item out of the bag and revealing a pack of red cups. He wiggles his eyebrows, basking in the joy that’s written all over her face.

“It might be a little juvenile…”

“Vodka better gets your creative juices flowing, cause I’m not about to deal with a drunk Blake Shelton for nothing.”

He shrugs before pouring them both a glass.

“Isn’t that a common thing with you guys? I thought all writers were drunks, to be honest.”

She snorts. “I manage to write without it.”

“We’re not all like you.”

She nods gratefully when he puts the red cup in front of her, her hands still occupied with his guitar.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He reaches over her just slightly to steal the notepad from her, his eyes scanning over his own words and some scrambled-on additions from Gwen.

“It means you’re insanely talented, Gwen.”

He swears he can see her blush.

“Thank you.” She says softly, straightening her back as her fingers start softly strumming the instrument again. “I told you I was good.”

She tries to sound as confident as she can, but he can tell there’s a bit of a façade going on there. He doesn’t call her out on it, instead he drowns in the feeling of wanting to make sure that attitude becomes her second nature. He picks up the pen again, putting it to the paper while Gwen continues strumming out broken melodies, somehow mixing into something very melodic. He writes a few words, reaching for his cup and taking a small sip. His eyes get stuck on the sight of Gwen playing the guitar again, her legs crossed beneath her body.

“I’m trying at different ways to get my inspiration going, Blake.” She answers his unspoken question and he smiles. “Stop staring at me.”

“I can’t help it, you’re very surprising.” He murmurs, the pen still poised between his fingers, but his eyes remaining on her profile; the hollows of her cheek and the cutting edge of her jawline. He notes in secret delight when he catches her lips twitch, threatening to break her focus.

“Are you even _trying_ to write?” She asks playfully.

He actually is. Words start cramming his frontal lobe, desperate to find their place on the paper. For a second he forgets about all the things he shouldn’t be saying, the opinions of people who will undoubtedly tell him his music is too personal, too serious for an artist with his reputation.

“You should sing the parts you already have.” Her voice suddenly cuts through his concentration and he didn’t even realize she’d stopped playing.

He looks at her nervously, before giving in and nodding. She hands him the instrument back carefully, adjusting her sitting position and leaning back a little. He feels weird all the sudden, playing for her. He’d played her some melodies before, but he hadn’t sung for her yet. Though he’s sure she looked up songs of his before starting their sessions, sitting in front of her doing a live version of a song that isn’t finished yet, feels way different.

“Whenever you’re ready.” She states sweetly, her eyes curious and patient.

He decides to just go for it, his fingers playing the melody he thinks would fit these words best. He starts the melody over once, the perfectionist in him not satisfied. Eventually, he finds a rhythm that he can work with, the words on the paper finally coming to live.

It’s hard to understand how genuine good company could make him feel this conflicted, the lyrics to his song reflecting his inner turmoil to perfection. He catches her gaze only once while he’s singing and the pained smile on her face is exactly what he feels when he’s telling the story so vividly. He should be mortified, ashamed to speak these words in her presence, but instead she’s the only reason he’s neither one of those things.

Still missing a bridge, he stops the song early, his fingers easing out the sounds. Her hand motions for the notepad next to him and he pushes it towards her gently, watching as she starts writing passionately. He doesn’t dare to utter any words, not wanting to jeopardize breaking her concentration. She bites her lip and when his mind starts fogging up with thoughts that should never be his, he turns his face away and focuses on how his fingers are still laying still against the thin snares. He’s starting to feel the familiar burn of playing too much, and it makes him feel more alive than anything else; he’s missed making music just for the hell of it—he missed being able to shut it all off and allow himself to listen to purest parts of himself.

Gwen finally drops the pen, looking at him with a childlike excitement.

He frowns. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll give it a chance?”

He makes a move to grab the paper out of her hand, but she moves it out of his reach, raising her brows.

“I promise.” He mutters with a soft chuckle.

Satisfied with his response, she lets him read whatever she just added to his song, and there’s a moment of silence before Blake’s gaze reaches up to her.

“Gwen…” He whispers, unsure of how anyone could possibly understand his thoughts like they’re her own. “This is, _wow_, it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure?” She asks a bit surprised, her lips turning into a smile again.

“Did we just write our first song?”

She bites her lip to contain the smile from splitting her cheeks. “Play the whole thing in its entirety.”

“I don’t know how the bridge goes, though.”

“Just wing it. Play it however it comes out.”

He’s not familiar with the way she works yet, but he’s starting to learn that she’s trying to get him to think less. He doesn’t know whether that’s her usual way of going about this, or if she’s just realizing it’s what _he_ needs. Whatever the reason; he can’t deny it’s working.

He plays the same tune again, this time finding it without a struggle. By the time he gets to the bridge she wrote all by herself, there’s a melody flowing out of him that he’s never even thought of before. He’s surprised at how perfectly it mixes with the flow of his previous rhythm. He looks at her as if to get some confirmation, but her soft head nod to the music is all he gets. He thinks it might be the most important reaction though, as she seems completely unaware of the fact he’s watching her. The music he’s playing seems to transport her somewhere else, which can only be added to his list of greatest achievements.

The music fades out again and this time he doesn’t give her any time to formulate a response.

“What did you think?”

Her eyes light up, her hand reaching for his shoulder as it squeezes gently.

“I _think_ we just wrote a song.”

“Let’s drink to that.”

The lines around her eyes crinkle when she smiles and it’s hard for him to focus on anything else. He craves her happiness as it has a way of penetrating his soul and become his own.

She’s infectious.

Her cup clinks with his and she giggles when she accidentally makes some of her own drink spill over. They’re sitting far enough to still be appropriate, but close enough for him to smell the fruity scent of her perfume. That mixed with the smell of her scented candle—the third one she lit up since starting this session—makes the room smell sweeter than he’d ever have it. But none of it matters.

“So how’d you rate this first day?” She asks, looking at him expectedly, a small smirk hiding on her lips.

“We got a song, don’t we?” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink.

“I’m talking about in general.”

He squints at her, feeling like teasing her a little bit.

“Are you asking me if I enjoyed writing with you?”

“Writing, talking…” She muses. “Hell, I even danced for you.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t hate it.”

“I certainly didn’t.”

“So?” She presses, biting her lip. “What did you think?”

“I think I haven’t been able to be this open and honest about every aspect of my life, in a very long time. I haven’t been able to write a song like this in a long time either. I think you might’ve been right when you said you were truly good at this.”

“Might’ve?”

“Definitely. You’re amazing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think this has been one of the most interesting and fulfilling writing sessions for me too. I’m actually looking forward to writing with you again.”

He tries to ignore the way her words set him on fire.

“Good, cause you’ve signed up for many more sessions with me. Which is unfortunate for you, but very beneficial for me.”

She clicks her tongue at him in disapproval.

“I don’t think so, I came out here to challenge myself. Looks to me like I’m getting my money’s worth.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“We should get going.” She says softly, her voice lacing a bit of hesitance, the same he feels. “I don’t want to completely burn you out, plus I need you fresh tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Neither one makes a move to leave though.

“Go home, Blake.” She smiles, and the motion confuses him.

He’s not sure whether she’s smiling at his transparency or because she actually has the audacity to relish in the fact he’d much rather stay here with her.

“You’re not going, yet?” Blake asks, finally making a move to put the guitar back in its case and move himself out of the slightly uncomfortable position on the floor.

“In a second, I like to stay behind for just a few minutes.”

He’s almost desperate enough to tell her he wants to stay too, but there’s no way he can tell her that without crossing every boundary. Gwen seems to realize that too.

“Go home to your girlfriend, have a nice evening, celebrate a successful day of writing.”

His thumb and index finger press tightly against each other, his right hand swinging the strap over his shoulder. The mention of his fiancée seems more intentional than anything and he hates how he can’t think of a comeback that would suffice.

_Go home to your girlfriend._

It’s so simple, yet so complicated. Still, he knows she’s right.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Blake.”

She smiles at him again and this time he avoids it on purpose.

He can’t wait to see her again, even if it’ll prove to be his demise. Every dark cloud he felt hovering above him this morning, had been turned around in the hours he’d been here. It’s ironic how Gwen is turning out to be a goddamn hurricane right after she clears his clouds.


	3. Why Can't You Be Happy?

After the fifth ring her friend snaps.

“Why don’t you just call the jerk back and tell him to fuck off.” Lizzy questions in exasperation, as Gwen silences her phone again.

“Cause none of that shit ever works with him.” She says softly, avoiding her friend’s gaze.

She’s happy her friend decided to come visit her tonight and she’s even more excited to tell her about the writing sessions she’s started to have with Blake.

“Have you ever tried?” Lizzy presses.

The question hits a nerve, and though she knows her friend doesn’t know all the specifics about the dynamic of her previous relationship, she finds herself growing agitated.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Gwen retorts pointedly. “I got out of California, trying to start fresh, let things calm down.”

“You’re not gonna be here forever.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Slouching back on the couch, she takes a sip of the red wine she just poured them. She probably shouldn’t be drinking any more today, not after being fed vodka with Blake again—it quickly becoming a ritual for them—but her life demands _some_ forms of stress relief.

“You like it that much here?”

“I’ve only been here for a week.” Gwen answers, her lips skimming the rim of her glass. “But so far so great. I love watching the sky here, even the air smells different.”

Lizzy laughs. “You always have been a nature girl.”

“You know I’ll be gone most of the day tomorrow, right?” Gwen asks suddenly, reminded of the fact her friend flew all the way out here just to spend one evening with her.

“I just felt like I had to come see you.” Her friend replies, rubbing her shoulder. “We’re worried about you back home.”

Gwen takes another sip of wine, hating to be on the other end of people’s worries.

“There’s no need. I’ve been doing good, much better, really.”

“The double locks on your door tell a different story.”

Gwen huffs, her eyes involuntarily gazing over to her front door. Though she knows she’s being paranoid, it felt like the safest choice for now.

“I know he would never….” She shakes her head, not able to get the words out of her mouth. “It’s just, that last fight was pretty bad and he won’t stop calling. I just don’t want to take any risks.”

Her friend nods in understanding. “No one knows you’re here though, right?”

“Right. It’s just for some peace of mind. I know it’s ridiculous, but I just moved here and I want to feel safe. I _need_ to feel safe.”

“I’m not judging you, babe.” Lizzy replies sweetly, a hint of sympathy coating her tone. “I just wish you would’ve come to me first, before running off here. Maybe I could’ve helped.”

“You already did. So much. I just need to figure some things out for myself, find my independence again. I mean, I used to be so good on my own and I feel like I completely lost that side of myself.”

Lizzy nods again. “I think it’s great you’re trying to get back to the old you, Gwen.”

“I promise I won’t fly off the deep end.” Gwen smiles, reaching for Lizzy’s hands and squeezing it in comfort. “I’ve actually been writing with this artist recently…. I can’t really explain it, but it’s been good for me in a lot of ways already.”

Lizzy’s eyes visibly widen and Gwen already starts to regret bringing the subject up.

“Gwen Renée Stefani…”

“It’s not like that.” Gwen interjects quickly. “I’ve only known him for a few days and he’s engaged. I’m just saying, it’s been nice talking to him, working with him.”

Somewhere along her musing, she felt herself getting lost in the thought and she’s rightfully terrified when her friend points it out.

“You might not know him well, but your whole face just lit up at the thought of him.”

Gwen runs a hand through her hair, letting it fall to one side.

“You need to stop.”

“It’s a good thing.” Her friend retorts. “The fact you’ve been able to have positive interaction with someone else again, let alone another man...”

There’s so much to unpack in Lizzy’s words, and she doesn’t think she has the strength or willpower to do that tonight. She’s tired from her own thoughts, and the wine she’s been drinking makes all her feelings just a bit hazier.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Just show me one picture.” Lizzy tries, not ready to drop the subject. “Come on, I want to know what he looks like.”

Gwen groans, knowing damn well that her friend won’t drop it until she complies. She reaches for her phone on the coffee table, shaking her head.

“You could’ve Googled him yourself, you know?” Gwen says while unlocking her phone and typing in the name of the only person that’s been on her mind these last few days.

“I _could_ have, if you would’ve told me who you were writing with.”

Gwen pushes the phone towards her friend, gesturing with her hand that she just needs to scroll down herself. It’s weird how she suddenly feels nervous while Lizzy goes over a bunch of pictures, the woman uncharacteristically quiet as she does so.

That’s until ten seconds later.

“Oh my god, Gwen! Are you fucking kidding me, right now?” Lizzy looks up at her, an amused look lingering on her face. “This guy is fucking handsome, look at him!”

Gwen chuckles as she gets the phone nearly pressed into her face.

“Are you forgetting that I work with the guy up close? I know what he looks like.”

“And you’re telling me you feel nothing, nada?”

Gwen nods. “Did you hear me tell you he’s engaged? I don’t feel anything for him in that way. He’s just a good guy and I like being around that for a change.”

Lizzy shrugs. “Of course, I get that. But let’s just say he _wasn’t_ engaged, hypothetically speaking…”

“Oh no, I’m not doing this with you.” Gwen laughs under her breath, dead serious on wanting to cut this conversation short.

“You would so bang him.”

Gwen’s eyes widen, her mouth opening in shock.

“Lizzy!”

“What? We’re all adults here.”

“Are you sure?” Gwen retorts, frowning. “Honestly Liz, it’s just not like that. Can you please drop it? Please.”

Something in her voice must’ve been convincing, because the short woman in front of her finally throws her hands up before muttering a quiet apology. It’s not like Gwen’s mind hadn’t gone to the more inappropriate lanes yet, but she’s nowhere near ready to admit that to anyone but herself. She doesn’t know what it all means either, because she’s not looking for anything at the moment. Her last relationship is still something she’s recovering from and though it’s been a while now, she’s definitely not interested in testing the waters again with a man she’s met five days ago.

“More wine?” Gwen asks, turning the mood around quickly.

Lizzy’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “You’ll never hear me say no to that.”

They enjoy another glass of wine together, talking about Lizzy’s new job and Gwen’s to-do-list here in Nashville. It feels just like all the nights she’s spend with her friend in California, and she’s grateful Lizzy decided to bring a piece of home to her. She makes a mental note to call home more, even when she’s trying to get away from everything and everyone that reminds her of her life back there. She knows she’ll have to go back at some point, and these three months away are only putting off what she needs to deal with later.

After Lizzy had gone to bed, eventually forcing herself off the couch at the thought of having to catch an early flight back to LA tomorrow, Gwen stayed behind a while longer, retrieving her notepad. She’d spent most of the remaining evening trying to come up with new ideas; her latest session with Blake having opened floodgates of inspiration. After writing the same verse in four different perspectives and scrutinizing every word written on the paper, she’d finally stopped. Sometimes her mind likes to continue racing even when she’s trying to whine down, and it never does anything but end in frustration.

She felt like she’d started the same song a thousand times over and still didn’t finish it. It was gnawing at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch and she couldn’t help but feel like maybe Blake would be able to finish it for her tomorrow. It was a weird sensation for her to be okay with giving up control like that; her writing a sacred thing she usually didn’t like to let others in on. But Blake was something different. He sees things the same way and if she trusted anyone with her thoughts, it was him.

It was no surprise to her when she got to the studio before him, the next morning.

Though he wasn’t at all late—she just likes getting there early—she likes having some type of tradition with him already; something to poke fun at him for. Something that was _theirs_.

“Nice of you to finally show up.”

She grins widely, laughing when he flips her off.

“Nice try woman, but I’m perfectly on time.”

He grins at her widely, his guitar case securely strapped around his shoulder. He looks confident and maybe even a bit smug, and she loves that look on him. He’s wearing jeans and a totally out of fashion t-shirt, but somehow the unruly look he’s got going on makes him that much more handsome. Not to mention, aggressively sexy.

“Help me out?” She asks, smiling when he starts shaking his head with a chuckle.

“I haven’t even sat down yet.”

“Hurry up then.” She jokes, waving with her hand to indicate she wants him next to her.

She doesn’t dare to think about how true that statement is either; how close she really wants him.

She takes a deep breath when he sits down on the couch, the furniture slightly dipping when his weight presses down on it.

“You got a song already?”

She hums in affirmation. “I’ve been cracking my brain about this one all night, and I might actually lose it if we don’t finish it today.”

Blake nods, smiling. “I know the feeling. Can I see?”

No matter how long she’s been writing and working with other artists, this part of her job will never not be a little scary. Songwriting is such a personal experience and to share it with other people means opening your heart and soul up to the possibilities of judgements and criticism. It also doesn’t help that Blake’s approval is something she desperately craves.

He takes his sweet time going over the words, looking up ever so often to catch her gaze. She fights the urge to ask for his opinion, knowing he’ll share it the moment he gets done analysing it. She hopes it’s not too forward—the song a mixture between Blake’s admissions so far, and her own reactions to them.

His eyes shimmer with adoration and a bit of nerves when he looks at her again, putting the paper down.

“God Gwen, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

His words sound so confident, like she’s supposed to get what they mean immediately, but she doesn’t.

“Get used to what?”

“This.” He gestures towards the paper in his hand, waving it around a bit restlessly. “Your writing. The way you put every feeling into words with the most brutal honesty.”

She winces a little, her fear coming to life. “Is it too much?”

For a moment, Blake seems shocked and the sight is totally foreign to her. She raises her brow in response, feeling Blake’s eyes bore into hers.

“Did the ever so confident Gwen Stefani just ask me if her writing was too much?” Blake teases, cocking his head. “I can’t believe it.”

It’s weird to have this reputation of confidence with him, but she doesn’t blame him either. It’s been important for her to establish some type of respect; knowing he’s from a different world completely and his faith in her ability to help him was very minimal. She’s always been confident in her ability to put feelings on a paper and help make it come alive, but her mind is still a bit stuck on the conversation she had with her friend yesterday. Insecurities she hoped she’d be over by now are ruthlessly clouding her frontal lobe, and the way Blake catches on already has her seriously distraught.

“Never mind.” She backtracks, trying to reach for the paper in his hand, but Blake effectively holds it out of reach.

“Hey no.” He shakes his head, creating a bit more distance as she continues to try and grab the sheet out of his hands. “Gwen, talk to me. This is amazing.”

She knows he’s talking about the lyrics now, but she’s annoyed at the fact that he didn’t give her a serious answer. And if she’s completely honest with herself, she’s scared of how easy it would be to share even more of her life story with him.

Digging deep to find the confidence Blake’s come to know of her, she lets her voice shimmer with fake determination.

“I know. Now finish it for me.”

She winks at him for good measure, hoping he takes the bait and lets it go, but of course she turns out not to be so lucky.

“Yeah, good try.” He answers unimpressed, scooting closer to her again once he realizes she’s no longer trying to gain access to the paper in his hand. “You don’t like it?”

Too tired to keep her façade up, she shrugs.

“It’s okay, I guess. I just need another pair of eyes to look at it.”

“Well, you got it.” He says pointedly, sitting back as his eyes seize her up. “Something’s up with you, why won’t you tell me?”

“What are you talking about?” She tries to act coy, not wanting to deter him from what they’re _really_ here to do: help him write songs. She doesn’t want his sessions to turn into a therapy session for her, no matter how much she might need it.

“I’m talking about how you crawled out of your skin when I was reading your song just now. I’m talking about the way your voice wavered as you asked me for my thoughts on it.”

He shouldn’t be paying this close attention to her moods yet, and he definitely shouldn’t be able to pinpoint her exact insecurities. She wants to laugh at how cruel this whole thing is.

“This isn’t about me.”

“Weren’t you the one who said these were _our_ sessions, not just mine or yours?”

“We don’t have to talk about my messy personal life in order to write great songs for you.”

There’s a brief silence between them and she hates how she just let that piece of information slip.

“I’ve been writing about my personal life non-stop with you, Gwen. There’s very little you don’t know about me at this point.” He continues, his features soft and inviting. “You can tell me a little bit of your own too, you know?”

She swallows roughly, closing her eyes as she inhales. She knows she won’t dive into the ugliest details of the story, but she also realizes she won’t be able to brush Blake off too easily.

“My friend came by last night.” She starts, finding the courage to look him in the eyes while she talks. “A friend from back home. I needed that moment of peace so badly, but of course my ex wouldn’t stop calling all night.” She shakes her head at the memory, chuckling bitterly. “There’s not much peace to be found whenever he’s involved.”

Blake seems to contemplate on his answer, his eyes never once wavering from her face.

Finally, he spits it out. “Does he have anything to do with the reason you decided to come to Nashville?”

“He _is_ the reason.” She confesses, tired of beating around the bush. “I mean, there’s more to it and it’s certainly not that black and white, but yeah—I needed a break from that entire situation and just find myself again.”

Blake nods. “I think that’s brave as hell, Gwen.”

His words sound sincere as ever and it seriously has her chocking up. It’s been a while since anyone has called her brave, and she sure as hell hasn’t felt like it herself. Hearing Blake speak those words to her makes her want to crawl into his arms and never leave.

She quickly forces the thought out of her brain.

“Thank you.” She clears her throat, feeling like it’s too dry to talk. “I don’t know how brave it is though. I basically ran from my hometown to get over a breakup that happened months ago.”

“Sometimes I wish I had the courage to just say fuck it and run away from it all.”

Gwen squints her eyes, wanting to say so much in response to that, but coming up short. The look in Blake’s eyes shows her that he didn’t mean to share that either, and she decides not to read too much into it. She’ll do that when she’s home alone, tonight.

“You have the courage to put it in a song. That’s much braver—and _much_ smarter.”

Blake’s smile is wide in response to her and she feels proud of herself for causing that. She finds herself trying to make him smile as much as she can these days.

“You do the same thing, darling.” He drawls lowly, his voice incredibly soothing and he doesn’t even know it. “Talking about that, we should definitely do something with this.”

He motions to the paper in his hand, the one she’d almost forgotten about. This time when she reaches for it, he lets her have it.

“You have any ideas?” She asks.

“I can just play the guitar and see what happens…” He lets the words linger in the air like a question, still not completely sure about how to thread when it comes to writing with her, it seems. “You know, like last time?”

She smiles. “That’s a great idea.”

Blake has barely made it off the couch to grab the guitar case, when the darkness of the room suddenly gets brighter with the front door opening. She didn’t expect any visitors, and if there’s one thing she hates, it’s people interrupting her sessions unannounced.

She’s about to say something, when Blake beats her to it.

“_Ran_?”

The confirmation about who just crashed their session causes Gwen to inhale sharply. It shouldn’t be like this, but time freezes for her for a second; the clock lying still altogether. She got so used to having this studio time with him alone, she sometimes forgets about how he has real-life people waiting for him outside of here. She forgets about how she will always know him second best to the woman he comes home to.

“Is it a crime for your fiancée to surprise you at work?” She smiles, her hands sliding up his chest and resting at his shoulders.

Gwen hates how the woman refers to their time together as work. She doesn’t know if that’s because of the way she said it, or because she’s right.

Blake’s gaze briefly makes it over to where Gwen is sitting, before settling on his girlfriend permanently. He quickly tries to maintain some composure, leaning down to peck her sweetly on the lips.

“Of course not, I just didn’t expect it.” His voice is gentle as ever, and it hurts Gwen a little that it’s not just a sound that’s reserved for her.

“That’s the whole point of a surprise, Blake.” Miranda replies pointedly, taking a small step back as she turns to Gwen. “I heard you two have already cooked up some songs.”

Gwen’s eyes widen when she realizes she’s being talked to and clears her throat. 

“Yeah. Your boyfriend is super talented.”

She can see a look of gratitude on Blake’s face, and it’s momentarily enough to distract her from the weird situation she’s in. She takes the moment to introduce herself properly and she pretends not to feel a surge of jealousy when she shakes the woman’s hand.

It’s with the utmost quickness that Miranda directs her attention back to her fiancé.

“Why don’t _we_ write more together, Blake?”

Gwen can tell Blake didn’t see the question coming and something about the way his girlfriend had uttered the words, sounded off.

“We’ve tried.” Blake answers calmly, working hard to keep the smile plastered on his face.

Gwen doesn’t exactly know what the story is here, but if she has to guess, she’ll say it has something to do with how Blake admitted that his fiancée doesn't always understand him.

Miranda’s hands find their way back to his shoulders, pressing herself against him as if to make sure Gwen knows he’s hers.

“Maybe we should try again sometime.”

Blake nods, his hand at a safe distance on her back.

“Yeah.” He affirms less than convincing, his hand now starting to rub slow circles along her spine. “Baby, we were kind of in the middle of something here. How about I finish up here and pick you up later tonight for dinner?”

Gwen closes her eyes while sitting back on the couch, her mind involuntarily flooding with new lyrics.

“I actually can’t tonight.” Her voice is cold and detached suddenly and it catches Gwen’s attention immediately. It doesn’t seem to surprise Blake too much, as he keeps his gaze fairly neutral. “I already have other plans. Hence why I’m here to see you now.”

Blake only nods.

“Oh.”

Gwen winces while Miranda shrugs.

“You’ve been gone for most days, Blake. You can’t expect me to sit around and wait, just so you can write some cheesy country ballads.”

“Ran...”

She holds her hand up, indicating she’s not done yet.

“I don’t get it. You’ve always been okay with singing other people’s words. Why is that suddenly not enough for you? What happened to letting the experts handle the lyrics?”

Gwen’s heart constricts painfully at her words, wanting nothing more but stand up for Blake in this moment. She also knows this is not her battle to fight. Deciding on giving them some privacy to work out whatever this is, she starts to slowly stand up and point at the door.

“Why don’t I just go outside for a minute? Give you guys some space.”

Blake’s answer is swift and determined, halting her movements immediately.

“No, that’s not necessary. Stay.”

“Blake...” Gwen starts softly, before he shuts it down again.

“We were working and I’d like for us to continue.”

Though he speaks the words as a response to her, she knows they’re really directed at his fiancée.

The tension that fills the room suddenly is so thick it almost suffocates her. When Miranda’s gaze locks precisely with hers, Gwen can’t help the words that escape her mouth.

“Blake is one of the most talented artists I’ve had the pleasure of writing with. If I were you, I’d be beaming with pride.”

She tries to let the word sound as nice as possible, not necessarily wanting to fight with the woman, but also not wanting to leave any room for doubt; Blake is a magnificent writer and she’ll make sure he gets full credit for that.

“There’s no shame in not being a writer.”

Gwen closes her eyes once more when the woman turns around and steps closer to Blake again. She doesn’t understand how Blake deals with the mixed signals; the need for physical closeness, while making sure she keeps her distance with the words she speaks. She also doesn’t understand why this woman seems determined to downplay his abilities.

“I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.” Blake speaks up suddenly, his voice a little less stable than she’s used to. “I know who I am, Ran. But these sessions have been working for me and I’m proud of these songs, regardless.”

If Gwen could, she’d get up and shake him. She’d tell him how wrong he is and how he’s equally the writer he is a singer, but she doesn’t do any of that. Instead, she sits back in a bit of shock and quiet realization.

“I don’t want to argue with you right now.” Miranda says, patting his shoulder.

The motion was probably meant to be soothing in some way, but to Gwen everything this woman does seems patronizing and calculated.

“Will I see you at all tonight?” Blake asks.

“I’ll come home, yeah.” She answers, zipping her coat back up. “Don’t wait up for me though.”

Finally, after what felt like hours, Blake’s eyes land on Gwen again and she gives a small, reassuring smile. She knows he probably needs so much more in this moment, but it’s all she can do for him now.

“Alright.”

Blake’s accent is thicker than she’s ever heard it and she’s starting to find out that it tends to happen whenever he’s feeling emotional or tired. Her hands once again itch to pull him in for a hug and comfort him.

“You’re gonna walk me out?” She asks, looking up at him expectantly.

Gwen rolls her eyes, almost wanting to say something. She’s not surprised when Blake humours her and follows her out. She’s no stranger to trying desperately to keep a failing relationship together, and she knows what it feels like to double the efforts even when it’s in vain. She doesn’t say anything about it when he walks back in five minutes later, but she can tell he’s not about to let it go unmentioned.

“I’m sorry.”

He sits down next to her, avoiding eye contact.

“What for?”

“Everything. That whole thing.”

She can tell he’s embarrassed and equally frustrated, and she gets it.

“That wasn’t your fault. Besides, we’ve already established it’s not my place to judge.”

“It was unprofessional.” He continues, his eyes looking up to find hers this time. “She comes here for the sole purpose of embarrassing me in front of the person I’m working with. I can handle whatever she wants to throw at me in private, but she’s interfering with business now too.”

Blake’s voice has picked up some steam by the end of his sentence and Gwen’s hand carefully squeezes his forearm.

“We’re friends now, right?”

Blake’s frown is obvious, his thumb and index finger pressing so tightly against each other she can see the tips of his fingers turning white.

“Yeah, but— “

“Friends sometimes see parts of your life you wish they didn’t, that’s just how it goes. It’s okay.”

She knows there’s much more to it and she wouldn’t necessarily be consoled by this either if the roles were reversed. Yet, this is the best she can do.

“She can’t be happy for me.” Blake muses softly, scoffing. “She physically cannot do it.”

Gwen’s eyes close, the feeling a familiar one.

“Can I ask you something? Something you’re probably not gonna like?”

Blake chuckles, looking up at the ceiling with a bitter smile on his lips.

His hand waves between them. “Sure.”

“Why do you put up with it?” The words hang heavy in the air around them, but she’s relieved to finally ask the question she’s been pondering over ever since Blake started sharing his writings with her. “Assuming this is how it usually goes in your relationship.”

“I love her.”

Gwen nods. “That’s it?”

Blake looks at her angrily.

“I love her, Gwen. It’s that simple.”

“You wanna marry her?”

She’s pressing her luck now, but there’s no logical explanation that could possibly justify Blake letting himself get treated this way.

“Gwen....” He shakes his head, breaking eye contact again. “Yes. I do.”

She tries to ignore the piercing feeling in her chest, knowing this is not about her. She can’t let herself make this about anything else but him.

“You wanna marry a girl you said yourself can’t be happy for you?”

“We have things to improve on, sure. Weren’t you the one who said no relationship is perfect?”

Blake’s words sound defensive as expected, but she didn’t expect the layer of actual anger.

“Blake, I’m just trying— “

“Yeah, what _are_ you trying?” He interrupts, his eyes blazing with passion. 

She swallows at the darkening of his eyes, forcing her gaze away as she starts digging through the lyrics scattered on the floor in front of them.

“Gwen?” He asks, this time more surprised than angry.

“Just listen to this.” She says, holding the paper in front of her to read off.

From the corner of her eye she can see Blake shaking his head, his restless frame getting ready to get up. She ignores it altogether when she starts reading the words he wrote a few hours earlier.

“_When you smile there's always a catch, like I didn't earn everything I have. Why do you always wanna put me down?”_

“Gwen.” He grits his teeth forcefully, but she pays it no mind.

_“Cause nobody else would make me feel dumb for being myself or needing someone._

He still looks like he’s on the edge of fleeing the room, but something keeps him seated. It’s enough for her to continue, despite the angry way he hisses her name again.

“_Whatever it is, whatever I've got, you want it all for yourself. Why can't you be happy for anyone else?”_

“Stop.”

“Blake— “

“I mean it Gwen. Cut it out.”

She remembers how she first felt reading these lyrics, the pain and heartbreak harboured within them enough to make her tear up. She can’t imagine what it must feel like hearing these words said back to him, especially after Miranda’s visit just now.

“Tell me again this is the woman you want to marry and spend the rest of your life with.”

“What the hell do you want from me right now?” He exclaims, his voice louder than usual. “You want me to go break off the engagement because you think you’ve suddenly figured out my life? Jesus Christ, Gwen.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I will be.”

“That’s not how marriage works, Blake. A piece of paper won’t magically erase all your problems.”

“And what, I’m supposed to take advice from the girl who literally ran to another state to get away from a break up?”

The words sting undoubtedly, tears springing to her eyes quickly. She pushes them down, reminding herself this is mostly hurt and distraught Blake talking. He's lashing out; throwing back in her face what he was praising her for earlier.

“Can you at least _think_ about what I just said?” Gwen asks softly, her eyes carefully seizing up the side of his face.

He ignores her, his thumb and index finger again pressing against each other tightly. This time, she moves forward and covers his hand with hers, easing the nervous tick down until his fingers relax beneath her palm.

“You’re starting to do that more.” She whispers, affected by the innocent touch she’s initiating, but not enough to withdraw her hand.

“I know.”

“Just relax.”

Her voice is low and soothing, and she realizes her face is much closer to his. She tries not to focus on that too much, hoping he won’t either.

“Why would you read me that?” He speaks gravelly, his eyes locking with hers intensely.

The moment is made even more intense by his eyes boring into hers, his face so close she can feel his breath when he talks.

“You’re a good man, Blake. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel good about yourself. Not someone who...”

She struggles finding the right words, not knowing how to describe what she saw today without freaking him out again.

“I trusted you.” He says instead, not dwelling on the sentence she left unfinished.

“You can trust me, Blake.”

“You’re judging me. You’re using my words against me.”

She shakes her head, suddenly feeling a bit hopeless at the turn of events.

“I just want you to think it over, that’s all.” She whispers, her eyes involuntarily dropping to his lips. “I want you to go after what you deserve.”

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about anymore, and by the looks of it, neither does he.

When his free hand cups her cheek, she freezes.

With her hand covering his restless one, and his hand touching the side of her face, she finds herself in a position that feels too intimate. She knows it’s wrong, she knows she shouldn’t entertain it, but her eyes close at the sensation of his palm cradling her cheek.

“I’m gonna marry her.”

Gwen’s eyes open again immediately, her heart beating violently against her chest. The touch of his hand suddenly feels like a burn to her cheek.

“Blake.”

“I love her.” His words come out rehearsed and rough, but his face remains confident.

She wants to pull away from his touch, but her body feels like it’s frozen into place.

“You’re making a mistake.”

The hand on the side of her face stays for a while longer, his thumb softly stroking the place below her lips, across the dip of her chin.

“If you don’t think we can write together anymore, I get it. But I _am_ gonna marry her. I love Miranda and this doesn’t change that.”

She wants to cry, but part of her knows that this isn’t something that should hurt her this much. Blake is his own person and if he wants to make the wrong decision, that’s not her problem.

His hand falls away from her entirely, his frame pushing off the couch and into a standing position. She looks up at him surprised, not ready for the intimate moment between them to be ended this abruptly.

“I’m gonna go home. If we’re still on for the rest of the sessions, just text.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she decides on saying nothing.

She wants to ask him why he’s in such a rush to go home to an empty house anyways, but she refrains. She lets him walk out without a fight, instead.

He loves his fiancée. He’s going to marry her. And it’s entirely her problem.


	4. Can't Get That At Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Let me know what you think =)

The party is way too crowded for the quite small venue. He’s been to these label evens before, and he’s never enjoyed a single one. They do usually have great alcoholic beverages though, and he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy indulging in those. His manager knows not to invite him to these things too often, but since he’s working on new music and is ready to start the new album cycle soon, this particular one is not smart to sit out. He knows this, and so when Brandon tries convincing him by telling him these exact words, he doesn’t protest at all.

Brandon had joked that he’s finally growing up and seeing the benefits of socializing and networking within a group of multimillionaires and music gurus. Blake just smiles at the playful dig, going along with it since it sounds much better than the explanation he’s got for himself. Truth is he’s exhausted. He’s fighting so much; with his family, with Miranda, even with Gwen. Nothing is going easy lately and he’s tired. He’s mentally and physically drained, to the point where going to one of these parties are the least of his worries.

If he’d still be writing with Gwen as much as he did before, he might’ve felt a bit better.

Unfortunately, that had been happening much less. He was surprised to get her text two weeks ago after Miranda showed up to their session. She still wanted to write with him.

He could tell something was still off by the way she addressed him, but he didn’t overanalyse it too much—she still wanted to write with him, that’s all that mattered. The next two times they saw each other, were tension-filled and awkward. They hadn’t come up with a new song, and the few lyrics they _did_ manage to write weren’t impressing either one. It was a mutual decision to take the week off, but he hated it. He hates it because now he has to go through life for a week without an outlet. Writing without Gwen had proved to be almost impossible lately. When a few of his attempts to write at home had resulted in songs about Gwen, he’d given up again.

Miranda had liked the fact he was home more, or so she said. He didn’t necessarily feel much of her excitement, as she was gone fifty percent of the time. He couldn’t get too upset with her, since he did the same thing not too long ago. He _does_ miss her though. He can’t believe how things used to be so different, how much he used to crave being with her. There’s a shell left of the love he once knew, and it’s almost too tragic for him to write about. One thing he’s grateful for, is her shared love for liquor. Together they’ll indulge in just enough to not have to think about a single thing.

Gwen would be disappointed in him.

He hoped not seeing her for a week would mean a break from her in his mind. He’d hoped for a few days without her clouding his thoughts and judgement. Instead, he thinks about her daily. Whether they’re thoughts about their sessions together or simply fantasizing about what she’s doing.

Miranda tells him he’s distant. He doesn’t fight her either, since she’s not wrong. He knows she’s aware of his sour mood being largely due to missing his time with Gwen. He doesn’t tell her that it’s not the sole reason of his disassociating though. He keeps to himself how he followed her a few days ago, when she figured he was still asleep. She’d come home so late the night before, he knew something was off. She further proved his point when she didn’t crawl into bed with him either. She went to sleep on the couch and in the moment, he couldn’t care enough to ask her to come upstairs. He’d just slept in his large, empty bed alone. When he heard her getting ready to leave again the next morning, he followed her out and drove to where she parked her truck. He’d beaten on the steering-wheel so hard when he saw her embrace a man that wasn’t him, he can still feel the strain in his hand if he focuses on it. He hadn’t confronted her yet, not knowing where his life was going in the moment. If he’s completely honest, he needs something to stay the same. He can’t lose the one thing in his life that gives him familiarity. If he thinks he can suck it up a while longer, until they can work something out, he’ll sure as hell do that.

He tries not think about how her body probably was tangled around someone else’s the night before or the way he can’t be intimate with her anymore without seeing flashing images of his fiancée getting kissed on by random strangers.

He forces these thoughts out of his mind tonight.

It had been a bitch to explain to Miranda how he felt like he had to go to this party alone. He’d slightly expected her to not even want to go, and the thought she felt guilty about what she’d been doing behind his back was overwhelmingly present. It’s one thing to try and stick it out, but pretending in front of a bunch of his peers that they're actually _not_ falling apart, is not something he can do tonight.

He feels a bit awkward as he makes his entrance into the overly pretentious house. It takes him at least twenty minutes to get past the hallway, saying hi to everyone who pretends to know him somehow. He smiles friendly, shakes hands, does the whole dance about forty times until he’s finally allowed some breathing space. The hand on his shoulder is familiar and warm, his manager’s eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Blake, I’m so happy you could make it brother.”

Brandon sounds as excited as he wishes he could feel.

Blake smiles. “Told you I would.”

He pets him on the shoulder once more. “And I told you you’d be a huge hit. Everyone’s freaking out about you being here, man.”

Blake snorts. “Everyone here is faker than the brand on your jacket.”

Brandon’s eye roll is completely expected.

“Funny. Why can’t you ever believe people have actually heard of you?”

He knows his manager is just trying to get through to him playfully, but the question hits him hard. Why can’t he?

“Drinks?” Blake asks instead, changing the subject expertly.

“I already got mine.” Brandon replies, pointing towards the high table in the back.

Blake almost forgot he will actually have to socialize his ass of tonight and apparently his manager had already sought out the group of people for him to start with.

“I’m gonna need one, asap.” Blake chuckles, not sure whether to like the undoubted distraction or feel tired by the prospect already. He decides on doing both.

“You might wanna get one for your friend, too.” Brandon smiles, nodding his head towards the hallway he just walked out of. Blake follows his line of sight until his gaze falls directly onto her. His heart begins to hammer immediately, and no, he hadn’t even given thought to the idea she might show up too.

“What is she doing here?” Blake asks nervously, hating how his body reacts to her arrival.

“I invited her.”

Blake’s eyes widen, his hands itching to grab Brandon and shake him, ask him what the hell is wrong with him. His friend answers before Blake can properly ask him.

“She doesn’t know anyone here, except for us. You told me you’ve been writing some great songs with her, I figured she would like the exposure just as much as you do.”

“She’s been writing hits for years. What exposure does she need here, exactly?”

“The exposure of writing with a country artist.” Brandon says pointedly, looking at Blake innocently. “People of a whole other demographic are gonna start paying attention to her now. This favour works both ways, you know?”

Blake’s eyes immediately find Gwen again, her appearance ever so elegant. He can tell she’s looking toned down for her standards; skinny jeans with a see through black blouse, her hair up in a neat bun, while her lips are coloured in the most beautiful shade of red he’s ever seen.

“Anyways, go get her a drink.” Brandon concludes.

He doesn’t blink twice before his manager is walking off to where he’d been spending his time before Blake walked in. His own legs carry him over to where Gwen is introducing herself to a bunch of curious strangers. He stays back, not wanting to intervene or steal her shine in any way. Her gaze locks with his and it’s the first time she’s laid her eyes on him since arriving. Her smile is small, but he can tell she’s relieved to see a familiar face.

She excuses herself while walking through the small circle of people, looking at him a bit awkwardly as she approaches. She stands before him nervously, her hand rubbing the back of her neck.

“I knew you’d be here, but it’s still weird.” She admits softly, the corners of her lips tugging up slightly.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, so you’re in an advantage I’d say.”

She looks way more bashful than he remembers her being, and his height makes him tower over her a little. She looks up at him with curious eyes.

“You’ve been holding up okay?” She asks suddenly, her face scrunching up a little.

He wants to laugh in her face for asking such a question, especially considering she probably already knows the answer. He shrugs instead, forcing a smile on his lips.

“Doing a little better now.”

She’s blushing before she can tell herself to stop, and Blake basks in the sight. He likes having that effect on her; a part of him feeling validated at knowing he’s not the only one slowly but surely losing it.

“You wanna get a drink?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She chuckles and he can’t believe how much he’s managed to miss that sound in less than seven days. He can’t imagine how weird of a picture they make for; walking side by side at a Nashville party, but he doesn’t give a damn. He missed this. He missed her.

“Blake?”

He looks up at the mention of his name.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She fidgets on her feet, standing still suddenly. She looks down at the floor, swallowing roughly and he didn’t expect her to have had such a hard time with putting a bit of distance between them.

“I just felt like we could both use a little time out.”

She sounds small and insecure and he hates the sound of it. He can’t help but take a step closer to her, his hand landing on her arm.

“It’s okay, Gwen. You’re right, we probably needed that.” He smiles down at her, an uncomfortable stirring occurring when she nervously sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

“If you want it too, I would love for us to pick our sessions up again soon.”

The words sound like actual magic to him, his smile an automatic thing.

“How about tomorrow?”

“I like the sound of that.” She smiles, thanking the person in front of her when he hands them both their drinks. Blake gets about two seconds into staring at her before she’s distracted by some of the delicatessens on the table in front of her.

“Oh my god, are those what I think they are?”

He laughs way too loudly when she stuffs her mouth with two pieces of dark chocolate.

“Have you never seen chocolate before or something?” He smiles, shaking his head at her over the top reaction.

“It’s been way too long since I’ve had them, for sure.” She looks around her to see if anyone’s looking, before stealing two more and he wonders if he could like anyone more in that moment.

When he catches a spot in the back that’s way less crowded, he motions for her to come with him. She does so without any further prompting, standing shoulder to shoulder as they look out over the party.

“You go to these a lot?” She asks curiously, popping another piece of chocolate in her mouth.

He shakes his head. “Nah, this isn’t really my scene.”

“They’re all country people.” She exclaims, looking up at him with genuine surprise.

He chuckles. “Industry people are industry people.”

“Guess that’s true.”

“Besides, this one is particularly for writers in the scene. Before you came around, I didn’t do much of that.”

He wonders if he’d just been too forward, but it’s no secret that he’d given up on writing before his sessions with Gwen.

“I’m glad I was able to spark your interest to write again.”

He looks at her, grinning when he spots a little piece of chocolate staining her lip.

“You’ve got a little something….” He murmurs, his finger reaching out mindlessly, his thumb wiping off the sticky sweetness without so much as a second thought. “…. Right there.”

Sometimes he doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him, and this is one of those times. He’s grateful when she doesn’t go off on him. Instead, she blushes again.

“Thank you.” She whispers, her finger going over the place Blake just touched as if she’s worried he might’ve missed a spot.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I said it was okay.”

He knows it’s not. He’s grateful she’s willing to let it slide.

“We should probably go mingle a bit.”

Her voice is playful, her eyes scanning the room. He smiles at her adorableness, and he already knows she’ll have a much easier time socializing than him.

It only takes a minute for Gwen to attract people again. He smiles again, this time at the transparency of their company.

“It’d be rude not to introduce myself, I don’t think I’ve seen you out here before.”

“Gwen.” She says sweetly, shaking his hand.

“Ian.”

Blake’s forced to smile even more politely when Ian turns his attention to him, shaking his hand with enthusiasm.

“Nice to finally meet you in person. You’ve been making quite the waves.”

“About damn time. Thank you, buddy.”

He catches Gwen’s smile, that sparkle in her eyes returning.

“Are you writer as well?” Gwen asks unknowingly.

Blake can’t explain the feeling he gets at Gwen’s innocence right now. He’s been able to identity the guy as soon as he walked up, but he sometimes forgets how clueless Gwen is when it comes to country music. He’s unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“Producer.” Ian replies with a smile, the man obviously not upset at her slight ignorance. “I’ve tried to master the art of writing, but I’m afraid it’s just not in the cards for me.”

Blake’s pleased with the way he decides to go about this whole thing. Ian Whittey has been someone his manager won’t shup about it. It’s not surprising, since the guy is responsible for at least four songs in the top ten right now. Blake knows he should be socializing his butt off, try to get at least one song or reference from the man himself, but he’s more interested in watching Gwen conduct her conversation.

“Gosh, I’ve always admired producers differently. I can’t do it, and I’ve dared to try a few times.”

“You mix songs a thousand different ways, hearing it a million times before realizing you’ve had it right the first take. I’ve had a song playing from six different speakers last night, trying to figure out where the volume needed to be lowered, and the vocals needed to be clearer. I’d say stick to writing, saves ya bitterness and a hell of a headache!”

Gwen smiles. “There definitely haven’t been a lot of headaches involved, writing with this guy. Blake’s one hell of a writer—makes my job easy.”

Blake finds her gaze, holding it intensely. He’s immobilized by the sudden nervousness and gratitude surging through his body. It’s taking every ounce of courage not to reflect with humour, and instead answers the compliment genuinely.

“Thank you, Gwen.” His eyes dart over to Ian, smiling. “I promise I didn’t pay her to say that.”

The producer laughs out loud.

“I’m impressed—_and_ surprised.”

“I think I speak for everyone in here, when I say that’s a universally shared feeling.”

Gwen shakes her head. “You’re crazy. And I take it back, all this self-deprecating _is_ giving me a headache right about now.”

Ian throws his hands up, nodding.

“She might be right, boss man. It’s no secret you have some serious talent, I’m glad you decided to expand your vision with this one. I think I speak for all of us, when I say we’re all excited to see what you’ve been cooking up with Gwen.”

Compliments almost make him as uneasy as love does, and so he lowers his head while letting his hand rub the back of his neck.

“I can’t wait to share it either.” He replies after he finds the courage to lift his head up again.

Their conversation gets interrupted by the piercing noise of microphone feedback. A young girl rushes to the speaker standing on the side, moving it so the output isn’t feeding directly into the mic. With the sound no longer being amplified and played on a loop, a slightly older girl—but still young—graces the small, and sudden build-in stage.

She sings an old Merle Haggard song, and though it’s not bad, it also doesn’t blow Blake away either. The conversation in the room slowly starts picking up again and he always feels slightly frustrated when that happens. Maybe it’s from all the nights he spent making music in bars, before record labels started to show some interest. Or maybe he’s just passionate about music in general; it takes nothing to show some appreciation to someone who’s sharing their musical gift. When he watches Gwen halt her conversation to look at the woman on stage, his admiration for her grows on the spot.

The girl performs three songs, before walking off again. There’s faint applause coming from the partygoers, the ones who actually paid attention slightly more enthusiastic. He’s ashamed to say he’s been paying the most attention to Gwen, during the girl’s performance. He doesn’t even realize Ian is still there, until Gwen starts conversation with him again.

“It’s amazing how music can spark such deep emotion. I don’t even know any of the songs she just sang, but the way she performed it made it feel like I’ve grown up with these songs, all the same.”

Ian’s eyes widen, his hand reaching for her arm.

“Now I know you’re not from here, but the fact that you didn’t know any of the songs she just performed is hurting me a little.”

Gwen laughs.

“I accept the slight judgement. In my defence, I think Blake should’ve put me on to more country music while I’ve been out here. Which he hasn’t been doing.”

Blake smiles at the way she managed to pull him into the conversation once again.

“There’s still time.” He replies smugly. There’s nothing smug about the way his chest wells up with gratitude at the thought of having more time with her. She’s going to be here for more than two months still. He’ll be making sure to use that time to his best advantage.

“I hope he follows through on that promise.” Ian says playfully, his hand still on her arm. “A pretty lady like you can’t go through life without knowing these classics.”

Blake’s eyes narrow at the man’s words. Gwen doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“I’m open to any education he has to offer.” Gwen smiles, winking at Blake for good measure.

Blake nearly chokes on his drink. He knows what she meant, but he can’t help the way his body heats up at all the ways she _could’ve_ meant that in another life.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone again, I promised to do at least one drink with your manager today.” Ian smiles at Blake, finally letting his arm fall back to his side.

Blake feels like he can finally breathe again.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Gwen.”

“The pleasure has been all mine.”

They shake on it one more time, Gwen’s shoulder bumping into his when they’re finally alone again.

“He was nice.”

Blake chuckles. “Yeah, he’s _real_ nice.”

Gwen turns to look at him, her mouth still curved up into that damn alluring smile.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh come on…” Blake smiles, laughing quietly under his breath. “A pretty lady like you should know these classics?”

Gwen scoffs before bursting out laughing.

“You’re such an idiot, Blake. You do know that, right?”

“I’m just saying, I’m surprised he didn’t ask ya for your number after that.”

Gwen raises her brow playfully. “Maybe he should’ve.”

“The man admitted to giving himself headaches. What makes you think you would be excluded from those?”

She punches him lightly against the shoulder.

“You’re a jerk.” She shakes her head. “He was nice.”

Getting his completely unwarranted and unfair jealousy under control, he can actually enjoy the way Gwen is truly empathic towards the man. He’s always known she’s nice, but being around someone with a genuinely great heart, is inspiring him greatly.

“I guess I can’t deny he’s not all that bad.”

“Neither are you, by the way. Enough of all that down talking, okay?

He smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

The smile on her face is enough reason for him to pay attention to his self-deprecating ways from now on. He lives to see her face light up, and finding ways to make that happen is something he won’t grow tired of.

He finds it hard to take his eyes off her for the rest of the evening, but he can’t seem to escape all the people who want to pull her aside for a chat. He realizes that’s the precise reason they’re here though, so soon enough he engages in his own share of exchanges.

He keeps his focus long enough to have serious conversations, make connections here and there. It’s still not his favorite way to pass his time, but it’s not as bad as he remembers it being. The fact that he’s got more buzz behind his name now, also makes these ‘parties’ undeniably more bearable.

The small stage gets occupied by a few more people who are eager to share their works, and he spends the rest of the evening sipping drinks while listening to music. He sometimes scans the room for Gwen, but after finding her in busy conversation for the tenth time, he decides to stop being obsessed with the beautiful songwriter and focus on everyone else.

He watches act after act. He sees the host of the night grab the mic, making a quick plea to anyone in the room to come up and sing a few songs. He’s halfway down his next drink, when Gwen’s suddenly by his side again. She must’ve sprinted over here, because he could’ve sworn he saw her on the other side of the room the last time he glanced over to her.

“Blake!” She calls for him excitedly, her hand tugging at his arm. “You should go up there.”

His eyes widen, his feet not moving an inch.

“I don’t think so. But I am glad to have you next to me again, I was starting to feel a bit abandoned.”

He smirks at her, but her mind seems made up.

“What better way to advertise yourself than showing your talents, instead of talking about ‘em all night?”

“Gwen, I’m not going up there.”

She bites her lip. “Yes you are.”

He grunts in frustration, because she’s probably right.

“I’m not doing it.”

Her hand squeezes his arm, stepping closer to him while looking up at him with her best puppy-dog eyes. He laughs at her for the ridiculous attempt, but he’s not fooling either one.

It’s working all the way.

“Come on, do it for me.”

He sighs. “What would I even sing?”

“You can sing one of the songs we wrote together.”

“You want me to perform an unreleased song?”

His eyes nearly pop out of his sockets. He’s aware of the way she’s always trying to push him out of his comfort zone, but he thinks he might actually combust this time. Her faith in him is touching, but she’s expecting him to be a lot braver than he actually is.

“Give them a little teaser of what’s to come. It’ll create some buzz around your new album, all the while establishing yourself as a writer in a room full of experts. It’s brilliant!”

He loves her confidence, he just hopes he can barrow some of it to get him through these next few minutes.

“You owe me one.” He murmurs, pushing his drink in her hand.

She smiles brightly. “How about I finish this drink for you, instead?”

He shakes his head, trying not to think about what he’s about to do as he approaches the stage in the front.

Some wandering eyes settle on him, some whispers being heard from across the room as he takes his stance behind the mic. He almost wishes he wasn’t known right now, wishes he was some unheard name trying to gain attraction. Only he isn’t. They know of him and they know his previous work. He’s about to shatter every illusion people might’ve had about his character; shredding a piece of that superficial country act, and let people in on his more sentimental side. He nearly walks right off stage at the thought, but Gwen’s eyes locking with his from in the crowd gives him that final push he needs.

“Anyone has a guitar for me?” He asks to no one in particular, aiming his question to anyone standing side stage.

It’s not even two seconds later before he’s strumming the delicate snares of a random guitar, not questioning where it came from at all, or who just pushed it into his arms. All he thinks about is finding the courage to spend three whole minutes shining light on a failing relationship that’s all sunshine and roses to the public.

He hears some encouraging sounds from the people gathered around the stage, and of course everyone is fully tuned in now.

He starts playing the chords he’s played a hundred times for Gwen, trying to remember the words. The minute his voice sings the first line of the song, he feels different. It’s like for the first time, he’s fully connected to what he’s saying on stage. He sings for himself, instead of everyone else. He sings to forgive himself.

His eyes meet with Gwen’s again, and he tries hard not to tear up at seeing her beaming with pride. Her body sways to the music a bit, and he smiles when he watches her take a sip of his drink.

Lyric after lyric pours out of him, and he catches a few confused faces in the crowd. He’s always been keen on keeping up appearances when it came to his relationship. Never has he allowed people to see behind the curtains like this. He almost feels like he should’ve discussed this with his fiancée first, before giving them a sneak peek into their mess. He thinks of everything _she’s_ not telling him, and suddenly he’s singing the bridge with just a little bit more power.

When he thinks he’s finally in the clear, taking a hold of his emotions, he catches Gwen mouthing along to the words. It’s such a simple gesture, but his whole body feels like it’s under attack. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her support, but he beams with emotion as she continues to caress his soul with each word she sings back to him.

He doesn’t sing more than one song, but he does take in the loud applause and praise he gets after his performance. He gives back the delicate instrument after leaving the stage, nodding his head in gratitude at the people who reach out to personally congratulate him. He’s grateful for every person who decided to share their love for the performance, but he needs to get to Gwen. He needs to tell her how much this moment meant to him before he loses his goddamn mind.

She’s already waiting for him when he finally makes his way over, her small body crashing into him quickly. He chuckles at the force in which she ran into his chest, her arms thrown around his neck. He sways her a bit, leaning his head on her shoulder.

He should be more careful, knowing they’re in public, but he can’t do anything but hold on to the only woman who’s ever supported his career in this way.

“That was unreal, Blake. You were so good; can you believe that just happened?”

He pulls back, but his arms remain around her lower back. He knows he should probably create a bit more distance but he doesn’t want to. He decides to be selfish, and keeps his arms right where they are.

“Thank you, Gwen. I mean that, you don’t even realize how good you are for me.”

“I told you it was a good idea.” She beams, unaware of his raging emotions or just simply not acknowledging them.

He knows it’s selfish to push. He knows that the only reason she’s keeping things light and simple, is because _he_ asked her to.

He knows what she thinks of his relationship and most importantly, he thinks he knows what she thinks of him. Being a good man is something he’s always prided himself of being, but the lines begin to blur with every moment he spends with this woman. Is he a good man for allowing someone to take a hold of his soul like this? Is he a good man by standing by his fiancée, knowing she’s unsatisfied with what they have?

Is he a good man for sacrificing his own needs and sanity?

“I want to release this song first.” He states suddenly, taking in the way her eyes widen and expression changes from excited to surprised.

“Anyone Else?” She asks slightly dumbfounded, a small smile daring to creep onto her lips.

He nods. “Yeah. It can be a promotional single, or hell, maybe just a little appetiser to get people excited for the project. I just want it out there.”

“You know I love that song.” She says sweetly, holding his gaze. “I also know it’s an emotional one for you. Are you sure?”

“I’ve spent most of my career hiding behind other people’s stories or party songs. I need the world to know more about my real life, my _real_ story. I think I might go insane if they don’t.”

Gwen’s hands find his, holding them between her two palms and his breath hitches. He looks around to see if anyone’s looking at them, but she forces his gaze back to her with a click of her tongue.

“I’m proud of you, Blake. I know you’re not ready to hear what else I have to say, so I won’t. I just wanted to tell you this. I’m proud of you.”

He swallows roughly, his thumb stroking briefly along the top of her hand.

“Does it make me a horrible person if I said that in a way, I wish I would’ve met you sooner?”

He knows she gets exactly what he’s saying, and he’s surprised when she holds on to his hands even tighter than before. Part of him expected her to let go completely,

“Does it make me a horrible person if I said that I’ve already thought about that a million times since meeting you?”

He brought it on to himself, he knows that. He’s not ready for how confident her words sound though, and so he’s a coward. He lets go of her hands, rubbing his hand along his mouth. He smiles at her weakly, feeling bad about steering the conversation one way when he knows he’s not ready to see it through.

“You’re the furthest thing from a horrible person.”

It’s not nearly enough, but it’s all he can say. He’s a taken man. He’s about to get married. He repeats it like a mantra, hoping that at some point, these words will make him as happy as standing here with Gwen does.

“So are you.”

He smiles, though he feels like she’s lying.

“For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right.”


	5. Don’t Make Me Let You Go

She’s been to a few houses before in her lifetime, but nothing quite like this. Her nerves are only heightened when the walk from his driveway to his front door takes a solid five minutes. Seeing Blake standing in the doorway made her feel a bit calmer, as he brings her in for a quick hug. He steps aside sweetly, letting her in and silently commanding her to walk with him. She takes in the large hallway, the amber tinged colours giving the spacious house that bit of warmth that she craves. They walk past the foyer, which is stacked with guitars and a totally out of place—_and_ neon pink—sofa.

The tasteless piece of furniture is even harder to understand when she makes it to the living room. A comforting aroma of wood and coffee rushes to greet her, while the dark velvet and brownish colours pull her in for a hug. It’s surreal how much this room reminds her of Blake, without any of his accomplishments or pictures hanging on the walls. There’s a wooden tabeltop that holds some pictures of his loved ones, including a picture of him and Miranda kissing sweetly at a bowling alley. There are more guitars here, but what surprises her the most is the writing gear sprawled out on the coffee table next to the couch. A notebook, ripped out papers that are folded into crumbs, and about four different pens are all scattered around the small surface.

On a shelf, right next to where the kitchen era begins, there’s a dozen different alcoholic beverages, the bottles looking like the most expensive kind. It’s probably the most stereotypical thing in this place, placing a close second to the deer head hanging in the hallway. Though it’s completely different from anything she’s used to, it gives her a warm vibe, stirring something very comfortable within her.

“You want anything to drink?”

Blake looks at her expectantly, obviously noticing the way she’s seizing up his home. If he’s nervous about it, he doesn’t show it. He looks curious at most.

“Just some water.” She replies sweetly, looking around some more.

Blake chuckles. “Why does that not surprise me.”

From the corner of her eye, she gets distracted by the impressive CD-collection right next to the TV, forgetting all about answering him.

Her legs carry her over to the large shelf, her fingers running past some of these records. She’s once again taken by surprise at Blake’s broad likings; his love for music going way past just country music, despite his refusal to sing anything but. She wonders where that comes from, why he’s made to feel like he can only be one thing. She makes a promise to herself to ask him about it one of these days.

“You wanna listen to one?” Blake’s voice asks from behind her, his presence much closer than she imagined it would be.

She can almost feel him against her back, her eyes lingering on the many musical treasures in front of her. She smiles when she realizes they’re all orderly arranged and aligned by genre and alphabetic order.

“This is insane.” She muses, her fingers still trailing past the backs of some of these covers. She momentarily forgets where she is, and instead gets completely mesmerized by music once again. She can hear Blake chuckle behind her, until it gets cut off by her sharp gasp. “Oh my god Blake, you listen to Bread?”

Her finger reaches out to slide the CD out of its confinement, holding it in her hand like she just found the greatest treasure. She looks behind her, finding Blake’s gaze.

“Make It with You might just be one of my favorite records ever made.”

Her eyes widen, her hand flipping the CD as she reads off the tracklist.

“I can’t believe you.” She says with mindless admiration. “You literally are such a surprise—in every sense of the word.”

Blake smiles. “I hope that’s mostly a good thing.”

“It is.” She answers without thinking, her mind too occupied with every ounce of new information she learns about him.

“You wanna put it on?”

“Won’t it be distracting?” She asks, looking up at him again.

“We have the house to ourselves the whole day.” Blake shrugs, taking the CD from her hands and inserting it into the old-school record player. “We can listen to some music and write afterwards.”

Gwen nods, liking the sound of his plan.

When he first asked her to come by the house to write, she felt a hint of hesitance. Not because she wasn’t dying to see where he lived, but because she realized she’d overstepped before. She tried desperately to create a bit more distance between them, to the point where even going to his home felt like something she had to seriously consider. Blake was right though; there’s nothing weird about writing sessions happening at home, and denying them would only serve to make things more awkward.

There’s something weird about the warm, tingly feeling she got at the thought of spending some more time here; listening to music with Blake before they actually get to work, just gives her an excuse to be here longer, and she should’ve been mortified at how happy that thought is making her.

The music starts playing softly in the background, reminding her of every good memory from her teenage years. Blake leads her back to the couch, handing her the glass of water he got her earlier. She thanks him before sitting down, her eyes finally taking him all in as he settles down next to her.

His eyes are as blue as ever, his velvet red shirt unbuttoned at the top, showing some light chest hairs. She tries not to linger there too long, taking a big gulp of her water.

“I didn’t know you liked Bread.” Blake says amusingly, squinting his eyes. “I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you yet.”

Gwen huffs nervously. “I tried telling you I’m much more than just a pop artist.”

“Oh, that’s one thing I _definitely_ know about you.”

She cocks her head in surprise. “I think that’s the first time I’ve actually heard you admit that.”

“You know damn well that I think you’re one of the most brilliant writers; pop or not. Your ability to pen a song is beyond anything else I know.”

Her breathing gets stuck in her throat for a second, a bunch of emotions rising to the surface at his genuine words. His features remain serious, and it dawns on her that he really wants to get the message across; no hint of playfulness detected anywhere.

“You listen to a lot of soft rock?” She asks, still blushing from his compliment and trying hard to direct the conversation away from her again.

“I say this all the time, country music has my heart, but I think 70’s and 80’s rock is where my soul finds peace. There’s just something different about it.”

Gwen bites her lip, nodding. “I get that. I _really_ do. It’s the kind of music that was meant to heal things, break you apart so you could grow back together.”

“Kinda like you, huh?”

There’s a bit of amusement in his tone, but there’s nothing playful about the words he just spoke. They take the air out of her lungs all the same. Being with Blake is not safe. She’s always been the one to try and find ‘safe’, whatever that might be. It’s like the harder she looks for it, the further away it gets. Blake is the type of person to bring every feeling to the surface, he’s the type to dismantle you in a way that will take you a lifetime to recover from if it all goes down the drain. She’s always gone for the opposite type; the ones who play it close to the vest, who don’t let her in all the way, always some space remaining. She can’t do that with Blake, and her whole body feels the effects of it.

“Blake, what are you— “

“Forget I said anything.” He brushes it off quickly, flashing her his sweetest smile.

There’s no way she’s gonna forget about it, but she nods regardless. Allowing conversations to take that kind of turn is dangerous; she wants safe.

“How have you been?” She asks, taking another sip of her drink as she looks him up and down. He looks better than the last time she’d seen him, a bit livelier, more confident.

“Can’t complain.” He drawls lowly, leaning further back against the couch cushion. “I think this is the first time in about two years where I’ve had consecutive weeks off from the road. Don’t get me wrong, I love touring and being out there, but I’ve missed just getting to be home.”

“Miranda must like that too.”

She can’t help but bring his fiancée up, even when it results in Blake’s features hardening a bit.

“Yeah.” He murmurs, finding his bearings a second later and giving her another smile. “We’ve been trying to find our way. It’s been better.”

The words still sound rehearsed, but there’s a bit more hope in them. Gwen ignores the way she wants to throw up at the sound—she’s the one who asked the question to begin with.

“That’s good.” She smiles. “That’s great, Blake.”

He nods. “How about you?”

“I’ve been good. I bought some flowers and cool paintings to brighten up my place here. It’s beginning to feel more like home now, which is good considering I left everything and everyone back in Cali.”

Blake hums. “You miss ‘em?”

“It’s just weird.”

“It’s a big change, going from California to Nashville.”

She’s never talked about her move much to Blake, feeling like she must keep a tight lid on that so she doesn’t explode into a hurricane of emotions.

“But it’s a good thing.” She says determinedly, hoping that one day she starts believing that wholeheartedly too.

It’s crazy how Blake seems to realize this immediately, his eyes boring a hole into her soul. It’s like he’s unable to do anything but be honest at certain times, no matter how painful or blunt. It’s why he’s the writer he is; when he allows himself to dig deep, there’s no hardship he won’t own, no loneliness or pain he’ll avoid. And with that, he forces others to be unapologetically reflective.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Blake says then, her eyes widening.

She didn’t even realize how her eyes started getting teary at the memory of back home, her heart beating incredibly fast as Blake points it out.

“You didn’t.” She swallows roughly, shaking her head. “It’s just…I sometimes can’t believe I’m here, you know? It’s crazy.”

“Well, I for one am very glad you’re here.”

She has the audacity to blush, directing her gaze to her lap.

Suddenly, one of her favorite songs starts playing in the background, all inhibitions forgotten as she’s taken back to the more positive memories she made in her hometown. She hums along with the melody softly, before she starts singing along to the male voice coming from the stereo.

If she weren’t so lost in the music, she would’ve seen the way Blake’s eyes basically lit up at the sound of it, his eyes never once wavering from her.

He waits until the song is almost over, to address her again.

“You sing?”

She bites her lip nervously. “Not really.”

“Are you sure? Because that sure sounded like you do.”

His words make her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and she once again feels like they’re threading on dangerous territory.

“I mean I like to sing, but I don’t _sing_.”

“Why not?” Blake presses, not caring about how he’s obviously pushing her beyond what she thinks she’s ready for.

“Blake…” She shakes her head again, hoping to convey her uneasiness.

She’s shocked when he moves closer to her, his shoulder now bumping into hers. His arm lays across the head of the couch, right behind her neck.

“What could someone as talented as you, possibly have as excuse _not_ to sing in public?”

She wonders if he can tell how close she is to tears, or how badly she wants to lean into his chest and let him wrap her up completely.

“Some people aren’t meant for the stage; they’re meant to help others get there.”

“Are you trying to convince me you’re one of them?”

She grows a little agitated at his persistence, not knowing how to continue this conversation without risking spilling too much.

“I’ve tried, it’s not for me.”

Blake shakes his head.

“I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care what you believe.” She snaps, eyes ablaze. “I’m not here to convince you either.”

Blake’s obviously startled by her reaction, but he doesn’t seem scared. If anything, he seems more determined to get to the truth now and the look in his eyes only serves to scare her further. She makes a move to leave the couch, but in another surprise, Blake’s arm reaches out to pull her back. The unexpected motion causes her to lose balance just a little, falling back onto the couch and partially into his chest. She goes to mutter an apology, but Blake shushes her with a sound from his lips and his arm now around her shoulder.

He’s not holding her, he’s just supporting her, but she couldn’t leave his arms even if she wanted to.

“Have you ever tried?” He asks softly, his voice patient but unwavering.

Gwen’s head lowers as the question hit, her heart and mind at terrible odds. She’s never wanted to bear her soul more than she does in this moment. She also knows that there’s no coming back from that—not with what her and Blake seem to have. There’s no way she can share that piece of information with him, and not leave another piece of her heart with him.

“Yes.” She whispers, unable to look at him. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t risk growing more attached to you, Blake.” She admits finally, looking up at his blue eyes, getting lost in an ocean of compassion. “I already pushed you too much, once. I’m not gonna make that mistake again.”

Realization seems to wash over him, but he doesn’t move to create any distance between them at all.

“That was different.” He recalls softly, closing his eyes. “You said it yourself, we’re friends. Friends get attached to each other, Gwen. They tell each other stories. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Friends don’t have to know everything.” She retorts.

“I want to know everything, though. I want to know everything about you, Gwen; from what keeps you up at night to the things you wake up for. I want to know about what makes you who you are and then I want to teach you about new things you never even knew about.”

Gwen gasps, her mouth opening and closing before she finds the right words.

“You can’t say that to me, Blake. You can’t be my friend and say those things.”

“Okay, screw friends then.” He says confidently, the determination he’s showing now something she hasn’t seen from him often—not with her. It’s like he’s feeding off the energy she gave him up until now, and uses it during the one moment where she feels like she lacks all. “Let me be your person then, let me be whoever you need me to be in order for you to open up.”

She wants to slap him for being so inconsiderate, even when he thinks he’s being gracious. He wants to give her enough confidence in what they are, for her to find ease in sharing her story. Instead, she grows more impatient by the second; waiting for something that could never be hers.

Fighting too many battles at once, she decides to let go on the most prodding one.

“There was this bar I used to sing at, ever since I was old enough to get in one.” She muses softly, letting her mind wander back to when she was twenty-two, still naïve and in love with the thought of a stage. “I was actually up there performing a gig with my friends, who played bass and guitar, when I met my ex-boyfriend.”

Blake stays silent while she shares a fragment of her past, and it’s enough to make her continue.

“I came back there for years; it was a pretty solid gig for a while. Even lead me to play some bigger venues, and eventually put me on the radar to some writers and producers in LA. I started writing and singing demos for other artist then, and the rest was history.”

Blake squints his eyes, and something tells her she’s not gonna get away with skipping over the most important part of the story. The part he’s been getting at all along.

“That doesn’t explain why you stopped performing.” Blake says carefully. “Gwen, you could have a serious career of your own. You do know that, right?”

“I _do_ have a serious career of my own, Blake.” She argues. “I got to write with some of the biggest artist, plus I landed an amazing publishing deal that lead me to buying my first house back at home.”

“And I’m not minimalizing that at all.” He chimes in quickly. “I just feel like you can do more; like you _want_ to do more.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t.”

“Tell me why you stopped.”

“I messed up.”

Blake frowns. “I highly doubt that.”

“That pedestal you put me up on…. it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t do that.”

“Look at how the tables turn, huh? Started of underestimating you, and here we are, me putting you on a pedestal. Maybe that means something, Gwen.”

“It means you’re horrible at balancing.”

“Or it means I’m finally seeing you for who you really are, and who you are is pretty damn great.”

His words spark a longing inside her that’s as unfamiliar as it’s unwanted. She can’t have these feelings brought to life by a man who could never love her. A man who loves someone else.

“I was playing this bar one day.” She starts again, wanting the story out there more than anything now—anything to show Blake the side of her that she wanted so badly to keep away from him. Now she thinks he _must_ know, just to turn him away from the idea of her. “Jake—my ex-, we got into this huge argument and he wanted me to cancel the gig, to stay and talk.” The memory of that night is almost too much to revisit, her throat tightening painfully. “I didn’t stay, I went to the bar that night and I turned off my phone. If I hadn’t done that, I would’ve noticed the fifteen missed calls from family and friends. If I hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have gone out that night. If I stayed home, he wouldn’t have gotten into that accident, Blake. I made the choice to leave that night, I chose the stage over him and I almost lost him. I was selfish.”

She can tell she’s stunned him into silence, and she almost expects him to scoot away from her. She expects him to look at her in disgust and tell her how horrible of a person she is. Instead, his features soften and his finger moves her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Gwen, you can’t possibly blame yourself for that. For any of it.”

“He went out to meet his friends because I refused to patch things up. I was the reason he got into the car that night, upset and distracted.”

Blake shakes his head, refusing to agree.

“You didn’t tell him to get in that car. Even if you had, you couldn’t have known something like that would happen.”

“I was up on stage having the time of my life, while he got t-boned at a stop sign.”

“Gwen, listen to me— “

“No.” She shakes her head, cutting him off quickly. “Our relationship was never the same after that, and he was right—I was selfish.”

Suddenly Blake’s features harden.

“He told you that?”

“He was right.”

“Like hell he was.”

She bites her lip, trying to force her gaze away from him, but his hand keeps her firmly in place. She’s close to begging him, when he talks again.

“I’m sorry for what happened to him, I really am. But Gwen, this was not your fault. You were not selfish for choosing to go out that night. You did what you needed to do to feel better, just like he decided to head out and do the same.”

Her eyes well up again and she hates the vulnerability and weakness she feels, as Blake so delicately but determinedly breaks her apart with his kindness.

“I didn’t get hurt.” She chokes out, a stray tear making its way down her cheeks.

“But you did pay the price.”

She tenses up, hating to admit he has a point.

“A small one.” She lies.

“You gave up the stage out of guilt, Gwen. You can’t tell me that’s a good enough reason to give up on something you love so much. Something you’re that great at.”

She chuckles. “You’ve never even seen me on a stage, how do you know I’m any good?”

“I don’t have to see you up there to know you’re a musical force.”

She’s once again taken aback, biting back tears.

“I made a choice, it was either the stage or my relationship. I chose Jake.”

Blake nods once.

“How did that work out for ya?”

She shrugs off his hand, moving away a few inches.

“Don’t be rude.” She warns, her eyes glaring at him.

He throws his hands up apologetically. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just hate seeing you beat yourself up over something so out of your control. And I hate him for convincing you that you were selfish, I can’t even begin to tell you how selfish that is.”

Her eyes widen. “He almost died.”

“And he had no right to kill a part of you because of it.”

She’s glad she’s sitting, because she feels her body lose all strength at his words. She’s always convinced herself it was the right thing to do, give up performing. Being a performer made her selfish, being on stage made her feel something she didn’t feel like she deserved. When Jake made her choose between the two, he was right. Even if he did throw it in her face all the time. Even if he did threaten her more than once, making sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She whispers.

“You don’t have to hide from me.”

She looks at him pleadingly, her eyes still stinging. “Please.”

“Okay.” He concedes reluctantly. “What do you wanna do?”

“Write. It’s what I came here to do, so let’s just…. let’s try to create something.”

She feels disarmed, weakened, and she desperately needs to do something that gives her back some of that strength. She needs the power of her words to fill her with some worth again.

“How about I get us another drink and we can get started?”

She nods wordlessly, closing her eyes as she prays this conversation didn’t ruin her chances of being creative today.

Apparently, it didn’t.

They write and write. Hours get away from them, but neither one care. It’s validating to be able to write so easily with someone she’s known so shortly. They’re strangers, yet he’s already the easiest person for her to write with. She feels a heaviness when the session ends, not nearly ready. Blake’s phone chiming is what officially puts an end to their session, and she packs up some of her stuff while Blake takes the call. It’s not even two minutes later when he’s back to her, saying something about Miranda cancelling on their plans. She was about to apologize, when Blake offered to take her somewhere instead.

He doesn’t want the night to end and he definitely doesn’t seem to want to be alone. Maybe it’s not fair of him to ask, but this time she doesn’t care. They seem to want the same thing, and for once she wants to be selfish.

She almost wants to hold his hand as they walk down the sidewalk together. The cold air is filling her body with quite some tension, her hands balling into little fists before she relaxes them again, repeating the pattern for at least five minutes. It doesn’t help that she’s spending these late-night hours with Blake, who’s still not telling her where they’re going exactly.

“Where are we going?” She asks again, knowing she probably won’t get an answer, but letting the words fall off her lips anyway.

“One of my favorite places.” He offers her nothing more, no other explanation or hint.

“That really narrows it down.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes.

Blake’s hand lands on her lower back suddenly, pushing her body gentle to the right, urging her around the corner. She knows he’s simply guiding her through what are completely unfamiliar streets to her, but his hand so low on her back have a shiver racing down her spine. She quickens her pace just a little bit, eager to get to wherever he’s leading them.

His hand disappears from her body as soon as it arrived, and she tries to ignore the hint of disappointment.

There’s a neon sign that light the curb in front of them, then. Her eyes look up at Blake, who just grins down at her and waves his hand to indicate this is the place. Her eyes narrow, the sound of music and faint cheering coming from inside. Realization suddenly kicks in as her eyes widen, her body ready to flee, but Blake’s arm is persistent as he guides her inside with a hand on her back.

Again.

The place is small and cute. If Gwen weren’t suddenly filled with nerves and anxiety, she would’ve loved being here. There are a bunch of tables laid out before her, graced with a small candle and old-school cloth. The bar is much more modern, the multiple high barstools all already occupied. There’s a small stage in the back of the cafeteria, two simple lights shining down upon the two-people singing a cover of islands in the stream.

“Blake, no.” She shakes her head adamantly, turning around as if she’s heading for the entrance again, but she just backs herself further into his chest.

“Listen, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Blake coos sweetly, his hand squeezing her arm lightly. “Let’s just get a table, listen to some music, and who knows what might happen.”

She shakes her head again, knowing what he’s getting at and being sure of how much she _doesn’t_ want to be here.

“I can’t believe you tricked me into coming here.” She gaps, involuntarily pushing her back more into his chest, his closeness the one thing that’s giving her some peace.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

He moves her next to him before pulling out a chair. She smiles when she realizes he’s waiting for her to sit down, and she does so a bit reluctantly. She’s still nervous, but she tries to focus on everything else; the way Blake’s charming even when he’s ordering drinks, gaining a warm response from the waitress who’s assigned to their table. They’ve managed to get a place fairly in the back, rather close to the stage, and Gwen’s mind is reeling with the possibilities that lie ahead.

She never even thought about getting on a stage again, before today. She was good with giving up that part of her life, as it helped her cope with some of the guilt she’d been trained to feel. Talking to Blake today had made her realize how much she suppressed that part of herself. It made her realize how much she’d actually given up, without truly knowing the reason why. She’d be the first to admit that there’s no way you could ever hide away what’s in your nature, all you can do is deny it long enough for it to become a habit. Denying herself of what she loves doing the most had become just that.

Blake ordered them both a whiskey neat, a weird choice, even for him.

“Trying to get me drunk enough to get up on that stage?” She quips from behind her glass, her smile laced with disapproval.

“Not at all. We’ll cut you off after this, just one glass to get the edge off.”

She shakes her head again, scoffing at his persistence.

“Why are you so obsessed with getting me on a stage?”

“It’s basically a karaoke bar, you can hardly call this a stage.”

She squints her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve spent these last few weeks pushing me out of my comfort zone; showing me the beauty of doing what I feared the most. Let me do the same for you.”

She hates how right he is, her eyes staring down at the hands in her lap. She can see her nerves right there, the soft shaking of her hands making her tear up.

Once upon a time, she would’ve killed to be in front of people, performing.

“I don’t think I can.” She whispers, meeting his gaze again and holding it.

His eyes are soft, his features even softer. He reaches his hand out over the table, nodding for her to take it. She’s both stunned and surprised, unable to do anything but give in. His fingers are soft as they stroke over hers, grabbing onto her hand more tightly.

“One song.” He pleads, squeezing her fingers gently between his palm. “If you hate it, we’ll never talk about it again.”

His skin touching hers so delicately has her closing her eyes, the surrealness of the situation covering her like a thick blanket. She can’t remember a time where she’d felt his challenged, this taken out of her body, but she moved out here for a reason. She was meaning to find herself again, and maybe here, with Blake’s help, she can get there quicker.

To her own surprise, she nods.

“One song.” She emphasizes, letting go of his hand. “Nothing more.”

Blake’s smile is a bright one, his teeth biting down on his lip.

“Deal.”

The sound of her chair screeching across the floor is only loud enough for them to hear, her legs feeling wobbly as she pushes herself up into a standing position. She meets Blake’s gaze once more, taking a deep breath as he silently urges her forward. He shoots her a quick wink, mouthing a _you got this_, before she goes.

The little stage is now deserted, the lights hitting nothing but the floor. She thinks about how badly she wishes that same floor could just open up and swallow her whole.

She catches a few hopeful stares as she makes her way to the podium. She wishes people weren’t so tuned in to what was happening up there, secretly wishing no one would pay attention to her. Her feet feel like bricks when she forces herself behind the mic stand, looking out over the small place that’s surprisingly packed.

She looks behind her to the person standing next to the karaoke machine, going over the limited song selection. Gwen nearly cries when she hears they have her signature song from before, when she still used to perform at that bar. The kind-looking man nods sweetly at her as he punches in some digits on the machine, his head motioning towards the mic.

Out of all the people watching, it’s Blake’s stare that gets her the most. His blue eyes shining brightly as ever, his lips curved up into a proud smile. Her hand reaches out for the mic stand, lifting the microphone out of there as she holds it steady in her left hand. She’s never been a microphone-stand girl; performing always asked more from her, it demanded her to move, to become one with the music.

She feels a bit more vindicated when she realizes her body still has that on autopilot, the instrumentals of one of her favorite songs suddenly blaring from the speakers. There’s nothing left for her to do now, except for singing or running.

Blake’s loud ‘yeah’ as the music starts, is what eventually makes her choose option one.  
It’s like the music finds its way inside her soul before she ever lets any words pass her lips, but then when she does, something just clicks.

A familiarity, an instinct that just kicks in.

She lets herself get lost in the words, in the gorgeousness of it all, and the moment feels so right it makes her tear up. She meets Blake’s gaze again, realizing he’s got a hard time tearing his eyes away from her. His smile is still prominent, but this time there’s a flicker in his eyes she hasn’t seen from him before. He looks at her with such longing, such pride.

A few people closest to the stage have gotten their phones out by now, and she’s momentarily freaking out about the gesture. Singing in front of these people was one thing, but the thought of her amateuristic performance after nearly six years making it to the masses, scares her. She continues regardless, not wanting to let herself down; Blake was right, she breathes music, and right now it’s coming out of her pores.

She vaguely registers the applause and chants as she nears the ending of the song, but she’s too busy getting lost to take it in. When the music fades out and her mouth is no longer producing any words and sounds, she takes her first _real_ look around.

People at the bar are turned around so they can watch the stage properly. The applause is overbearing now; some people even took it as far as to stand for her. She’s reminded of how much of a music city Nashville truly is—people aren’t just here for drinks, they’re there for music. There’s another wave of pride that hits her when she thinks of what she just did, but nothing could quite prepare her for the next sight.

Blake had taken it upon himself to stand as well, his eyes still sparkling with as much adoration as when she was singing, only now she could register it for what it really was. If she strained enough, she could make out the sound of his claps amidst the still ongoing noise coming from everyone else.

She nods in gratitude before putting the mic back in its stand, carefully stepping down as she realizes she’s back to feeling a bit weak again. This time, it’s from disbelief rather than fear. She can’t believe she just did that, but she’s mostly surprised about how much she still loved it. Forgetting about everything she is and her surroundings, she walks straight into Blake’s arms and nuzzles her head against his chest. Her emotions are incredibly high and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Blake presses her more firmly against him.

“Let’s step outside.” He whispers against her hair, letting him lead her back through the exit, exhaling deeply when the outside air fills her lungs.

“Oh my god.” She gaps, her mind reeling from what just happened.

“Gwen, that was surreal! Did you see the way you had everyone in there wrapped around your finger?”

She looks at him with wet eyes, shaking her head.

“You were right.” She smiles softly, reaching out for his arm. “I needed this. I needed this so much, thank you.”

He grins. “My pleasure. Did you hear me, though? You were absolutely amazing up there.”

There’s a confidence she once had, but lost along the way, that pierces her chest again. She feels the actual force of it rush through her body, and she never anticipated how hard it was to contain such a feeling. Confidence and longing mix into one of the most conflicting emotions she’s ever felt, and it takes every ounce of strength in her body not to crash herself against Blake and claim things that could never be hers.

“Is it weird I kinda want to get back up there?” She smiles widely, stepping closer to him and smiling when his hand squeezes her shoulder.

“I’m definitely not gonna stop you from doing that.”

She chuckles. “Next time.”

“You wanna go home?” He asks softly, squeezing her shoulder once more.

She shakes her head, her hand sliding up his chest slowly. She avoids his gaze on purpose, not needing to be reminded by the look in his eyes of how wrong this is. How selfish.

“Not really.” She chokes out, the air around them now so thick she almost chokes on it.

“_Gwen_.” He strains out, his voice not sounding any better.

Her hand continues the exploration of his chest, pressing against his heart before descending, basking into the slight hiss leaving his throat as she skims across his nipple. Trailing her hand agonizingly slow down his abdomen feels too good to feel bad about it, and Blake seems stunned into silence by her deliberate demonstrations.

She bites her lip as her hands continue to stroke over the fabric of his shirt. She lets herself for a second, imagine what it would be like to sink her fingers in the flesh underneath. 

She leans into him, pressing her head back to where it had been before, against his chest. Only now she dared to let her breath linger over the places she’d just touched with her fingers, placing a soft kiss right over his heart. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, his hand finally reaching out and grabbing the back of her neck gently.

“Gwen….” He breathes, his grip on her making it harder for her to continue her lingering touches. “We can’t.”

She nods, pulling back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…” He cuts himself off, and she can’t help but arch into his chest again. She wished she didn’t know how good her body felt pressed against his, but she did, and it was going to be absolute hell keeping herself away from it. “In another life I would’ve…. I just, I can’t.”

She hates herself for how she pulls his body closer by the waist, and she hates herself even more for the pained groan Blake lets out when his arousal collides with her core. The motion seals their bodies together until there’s not an inch of space left between them.

“In another life you would’ve what?” She presses, her voice barely a whisper.

His breath stutters on its way past his lips at her close proximity, his voice sounding rough and raw to her ears.

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispers. “In this one, _this_ can’t happen.”

She could tell he was toeing that invisible line and the last thing she wants is for him to take a step back, like she knows he will. She wants him to cross it.

“Right.” She whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good man.”

And she feels like the worst woman.

The sudden space between their bodies leaves a weird ache behind in her body, the cold slamming against the place Blake had kept warm for a few sacred minutes. The way Blake seems determined to get out of here, fills her with a pain she knows all too well. Rejection becoming her second nature, even when she brings it onto herself.

Later at night she will overthink exactly _how_ she got into this mess in the first place. She'll wrap her heart up in guilt again, because it's the only way to survive her feelings.

She'll allow herself the pleasure of letting go of that guilt, only in her dreams, quite literally the only place where he's not a taken man. 


	6. Looking For My Place Under The Sun

The ride back to his house is uncomfortably silent. Gwen keeps her eyes on the passing city lights outside the window and he struggles with keeping them straight ahead, occasionally glancing over to her. She practically jumps out of his car when they arrive at his driveway, his heart slamming against his chest when he sees the lights on already and Miranda’s car in the driveway next to his. He tries not to think about how it had felt to have her fingers all over his chest, because he’s pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to feel like _that_.

Miranda and him had been working on things lately. Things _have_ been better. There’s still a lot to improve on, but there was more hope that they could work these things out after the wedding. He doesn’t want to think about how Gwen’s presence gives him more second thoughts than every single fight he’s had with his fiancée.

Gwen avoids his eyes still, her demeanour different as she approaches the front door. She must be thinking the same thing he is, because she turns around to speak to him before he can open the door for them.

“How about you just bring my stuff over tomorrow?”

He knows he’ll see her again at the studio tomorrow, and he has absolutely no idea how to go about things from here on out.

Blake nods. “Are you sure?”

The question is asked purely out of formality and he hates how obvious it is. He’s grateful for how she doesn’t call him out on it, and instead forces a small smile onto her lips.

“Totally. I’ve got my purse and all the important stuff. You can just bring the songs and drafts tomorrow.”

“Okay. I did have a good time with you tonight, Gwen. I don’t want you to think- “

“It’s fine, we don’t have to make things weird.”

He almost wants to laugh at her audacity, as if there’s any way this wouldn’t be weird. He basically let her feel him up outside that bar, fighting his own conscience as he felt arousal coursing through his whole body beneath her shallow touches.

He nods, giving in.

“Text me when you get home?”

She gives him another smile, this time meeting his gaze again.

“Sure.”

There’s a brief pause, his arms itching to reach out and hug her goodbye like they’ve always done. He’s not sure how appropriate that is in this moment, his heart feeling heavy as he decides against pulling her in. She doesn’t make a move to hug him either, instead she starts digging into the contents of her purse to retrieve her car keys.

She’s barely found it when the front door flicks open.

Both their gazes move towards the patio, Miranda’s presence appearing in the doorway before she makes her way to the two musicians standing in the driveway.

He watches as Gwen forces her eyes away from them as Miranda leans up for a kiss, smiling against his shoulder when she’s standing back on the ball of her feet. Her eyes flicker to Gwen, and he’s relieved to see Gwen managing at another rehearsed smile reserved for his fiancée.

“I was about to leave. Enjoy the rest of the evening.” Gwen speaks kindly, the words causing Blake to wince, regardless. He knows her different moods now, and it’s almost too easy for him to realize the different nuances in her tone. This one less than genuine.

Miranda seems to fall for it, though. “Wait a second.”

Blake looks down at her nervously, feeling like he’s on the verge of having the floor ripped out from underneath him.

Gwen stills, looking back at the couple.

“I don’t know if Blake has told you yet, but we’re throwing a pre-wedding party, so to speak. Just to celebrate how far we’ve come, since we’re both super busy. Lord knows when the actual wedding will take place, at his point.” Miranda’s voice is casual while she speaks, rubbing Blake completely the wrong way. “Anyways, we’d like for you to be there.”

Gwen’s eyes widen and he can see the mortified expression on her face, even if his fiancée appears oblivious to it.

“You want me to be there?” Gwen repeats softly, looking up at Blake for either support or an explanation—probably both.

“To be fair, Blake wants you to be there.”

Blake clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t get around to asking you yet, I didn’t mean for us to spring it on you like this…” He looks down at his fiancée, his scolding look not holding much fire, though it’s enough for Miranda to look at him innocently.

“Isn’t that something more for your really close friends?” Gwen asks, the words hitting Blake deep in his gut.

“That’s what I told him too.” Miranda chirps positively. “But what can I say, Blake can be _very_ convincing when he wants to be.”

Blake fights the urge to turn around and hiss his disapproval at her, but instead he smiles a bit nervously at the ground.

“I’m sure.” Gwen chokes out, giving him a desperate glance.

“Ran, would you mind giving us a second alone?”

He knows the request is a tricky one, but he cares for Gwen more than he feels comfortable to admit. The thought of blindsiding her like this, is not one he can live with.

Miranda’s gaze burns a hole through his cheek, but he holds his composure.

“I’ll be right inside.” He follows up sweetly, grabbing her hand for good measure and lifting it to his lips. “We were just kind of in the middle of something, I promise it won’t take long.”

The lie leaves his lips too easily.

“Fine.” She concedes, leaning up again, this time claiming his lips for a longer period. He’s surprised to see her initiate any physical contact in public, a sigh escaping his lips when he thinks about why she’s picking this particular moment. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He nods sweetly, letting go of her hand, waiting until the door closes behind her. His head turns to face Gwen immediately, and he’s shocked to see her already bolting for her car.

“Hey, hey, wait a second.” He calls after her, grabbing her arm softy.

“Let go.” She hisses quietly, standing still in front of him as he lets go of her arm. “You said it yourself, we can’t touch each other, especially not here on your driveway with your fiancée a few feet away.”

“She didn’t seem to stop you earlier.”

He didn’t mean for the words to come out like that, but he’s confused; and quite frankly, he’s hurt.

“I made a mistake, a horrible one and I’m sorry.” Her eyes are aimed at her feet, her breathing shallow. “I got carried away, I shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to tell you about the party earlier.” Blake says softly, changing the course of the subject just a little bit. “Writing with you has helped me put some things in perspective, you know? In a weird way, it has helped me put certain things back together. It’s why I wanted you to be there. It’s why I still do.”

It’s fucked up how her presence has somewhat helped him understand his own relationship more, and it might be even worse for him to admit this to her. But she’s been blatant with him all night, crossing lines that she shouldn’t have and being honest to the point of being painful. He can only blame this moment to it being his turn.

Her head lifts to meet his gaze, lips parted. “Do you even know what you’re asking from me right now?”

She looks close to tears and if the night hadn’t played out the way it had, he would’ve brought her in for a hug, made sure she was alright.

“It’s why I didn’t ask you before, especially not after….” His voice trails off, but they’re both painfully aware of what he’s referring to. “Listen, you did something powerful today and you literally just came down from that high. You were high off that buzz and weren’t thinking straight—we don’t have to make that moment more than it was.”

The look on her face reminds him of when he got the wind knocked out of him, once. It’s a look he wishes never to see on her face again.

“_Yeah_.” She breathes softly, biting her lip.

He brainstorms about what to do or say next, not wanting to hurt her but also not quite sure he can keep himself out of harm’s way much longer. Gwen looks at him pained, her expression screaming discomfort.

“I still want you there, Gwen.”

“I can’t be there.”

Her reply comes way quicker than he would’ve liked, the unspoken question needing no consideration, apparently.

“Gwen…”

“I can’t be at that party, Blake.” She interjects harshly, taking another step backwards. “If you have any respect for me, if you have any respect for _yourself_, you won’t ask me again.”

Blake swallows roughly, her words causing a weird tug of war within him. It’s like he’s forced between what he knows he needs and what he wants. It’s like everything he fought so hard to obtain, is being obliterated by the weird thoughts he’s having about his writer friend. It’s like the type of drowning he’s only ever read about in books. He’s held his breath in a pool before, but this isn’t like that. This is like having a gun held to his head, and being told not let his heart beat. Of course it will beat.

He just doesn’t know who for anymore.

*

She hadn’t expected them to find a way to work well together after that. She figured he would be withdrawing from her, close up to the point where they wouldn’t be able to create anything together. Instead, he’d seemed to work even harder to let her in. He’d let her in on so many thoughts—none of them ever about her, never her, but it had resulted in a bunch of incredible songs. He’d worked harder than she ever saw him work before, and in return he established new confidence in their ability to write songs together. Thing had been considerably easy. They hadn’t brought up what happened outside that bar again. It’s been three weeks, but as far as they’re concerned—it never happened.

She’d even taken it upon herself to explore the nightlife a bit more. She’d been in her Nashville apartment for a month and a half now, her need to find more people than just Blake to hang out with becoming a big one. She’d gone back to the bar Blake took her to that one time, twice so far. It was weird at first, coming there without him, but she quickly found out they were _her_ people as much as they were his.

The third time coming here, has her feeling more confident. More comfortable.

Being up on that stage is no longer weird, if anything it’s where she feels the most validated. The most seen. People are always in tune with her when she’s performing, the attention almost addicting, but in the most humbling way. She’d started singing some originals during the second part of her set, the last time. Her publicist had been calling her non-stop, begging her to allow him to book some more high profile performances. She’s still holding it off, not feeling like making performing a job again. She’s enjoying doing it purely as a hobby now, as a form of survival.

Standing up there was feeding her back that warmth she thought she’d lost. Every cell of her body welcomed the warm spread like an old friend. It had been so long since she’d been able to call that feeling her own, the emotion made it hard to focus on continuing with the song. She wonders what Blake is doing while she’s out here making amends with all her old ghosts. She wonders if he knows how much he helped her heal by not giving up the other night, by not allowing her to run away from the one thing she truly breathes for.

With every lyric, every person’s reaction to her passion, she feels some of the guilt unwrap from her heart and pour out on the stage, waiting to be mopped away completely. Her ex-boyfriend’s accident had broken her, tore her soul apart and she’d allowed him to remind her of that every single day. The weight of his demons was easier to carry than her own guilt. Never did she imagine a place like this in Nashville could make all that feel a bit better again, the universe slowly becoming more familiar again.

She thinks about calling Blake later. She knows he’s busy salvaging a relationship she wishes she could save him from. The same way he’d saved her from her own darkness here. It’s ironic how she also feels like she gained a new wave of sadness from his unavailableness. His rejection. And yet she’s happy, she’s happy he’s the man she thinks he is—he won’t step out on his fiancée, despite the possibilities or the fact that Miranda doesn’t deserve him.

She keeps that to herself, from now on.

She’s taking in the way people are reacting to her in here, getting lost in the music again, in the small but popular bar. She smiles while music once again transcends her somewhere else. The applause as she walks off stage follows her all the way to the bar, where she orders a well-deserved drink.

“That was one hell of a performance.”

Her head snaps to the right at the unfamiliar man’s voice, a blush colouring her features.

She’s still waiting for comments about her performances to feel natural, for them not to feel like something she should feel guilty about.

“Thank you.” She smiles, trying her best to maintain her composure.

“If you don’t mind me being too forward, you’ve got to be the most beautiful person in all of Nashville.”

Her eyes widen, his blatant attempt at flirting throwing her off. She chuckles, lifting the glass to her lips.

“Does that usually work with the ladies?” She asks, smirking. “That pick up line, I mean.”

The unknown man smiles in front of her, his fingers in the air waving the bartender over to where they’re sitting. He gives off his order politely, before looking back at her.

“Would you believe me if I said it was the first time using it?”

She has the audacity to laugh.

“Maybe.”

“Dean.” He says suddenly, holding out his hand.

“Gwen.”

“Gwen.” He repeats, thanking the waiter as he’s handed his own drink. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“I haven’t been here that long.” She concedes, feeling strangely comfortable talking to this guy. Maybe it’s the confidence she gets from being on stage that’s still coursing through her veins, demolishing all her inhibitions. “I like coming here, though.”

He smiles. “That makes two of us.”

“You sing?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “No, ma’am. I do write.”

Her ears perk up at his words, and she almost wants to laugh at herself. She used to think she never had a type, but maybe songwriters from Nashville should be up for heavy consideration. She nods, taking another sip from her thickly flavoured drink in her hand.

“That makes two of us.” She smiles, using his words from earlier.

“How about I buy you that next drink and we vow _not_ to talk about it at all?”

Her brows raise, her head leaning towards him.

“Why wouldn’t we talk about writing?”

“Is it work?” He asks, his eyes obvious about how they’re seizing her up.

She nods. “Yeah.”

He shrugs. “Then you have your answer.”

She bites her lip, his confidence reminding her of Blake whenever he is his usual self, only Dean was less polished, less subtle, more arrogant. It’s different, but it feels perfect for the distraction she’s so desperately seeking.

She’s not surprised when she hears herself agree, and she’s also not surprised to find herself rather tipsy at the end of the evening. She knows she won’t let it go any further tonight, but she’s not willing to make any bets about the following days. He keeps looking at her like he’s won the lottery, despite not having gotten anywhere with her, and she can’t deny that it’s a good feeling to be so openly wanted. He’s respectful about it, but he doesn’t allow there to be any room for doubt.

She smiles when she catches him staring as they wait for the Uber to pick her up and drive her back to her Nashville rental. She allows small touches, even leans into him a bit, and giggles softly when he whispers in her ear how he thinks they could keep the fun going if she’d let him come home with her. She pushes his arm away playfully, shaking her head while whispering a teasing ‘good things come to those who wait’.

“Since you’re insisting on cutting the evening short…” Dean muses softly, chuckling when Gwen smiles smugly. “Can you at least tell me for how long you’ll be here? I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow and realize you’re long gone, am I?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “At least another month a half.” She slurs a little. She might be intoxicated, but she can still read the puzzling expression on Dean's face, like he's trying to figure out why she's here in the first place. “It’s a long story." She answers the unspoken question with a smile. "The one about why I’m here.” 

“What’s his name?”

Gwen snorts, the alcohol in her system making it just a little bit easier to open up. The fact that this guy is such a stranger to her makes it unexplainably easier too.

“Jake.”

Dean nods. “Already sounds like a jerk.”

She looks at him shocked before bursting out laughing. She can’t even truly explain why she’s cracking up; maybe it’s the fact that she knows he’ll say anything to please her, or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe it’s the fact that this guy doesn’t seem to care at all about saying the right thing and it makes her want to do everything her rational mind knows she shouldn’t.

“You should’ve been there for our last fight; you would’ve really disliked him then.” She chuckles, not even realizing what she just let slip.

Dean appears to be a bit more focused now, squinting his eyes at her.

“Why?” He asks. “What happened the last time?”

She shakes her head. “Let’s not be so serious.”

She didn’t even realize she stepped closer to him, and when her hand reaches out for his arm to steady herself, it becomes clear she’s more affected by the drinks they’ve had than she initially thought.

“Do I need to beat anyone up for ya, sweetheart?” He muses in her ears, and she’s tired of doing the right thing so much, she almost wants to spill all her deepest darkest secrets right there on the street.

She leans into him more, whispering against his ear.

“He deserves it, that’s for sure.” Her eyes close, her hand still holding on to him in favour of not crashing into him completely. “Had a bruise the size of a damn football on my back after he left. That’s the kind of charming we’re talking about.”

“He hit you?” There’s genuine care in his voice, and it makes her shake her head in surrealness. She finds herself hit with a wave of guilt when she realizes she wishes she was having this conversation with Blake so much more. She basks in the care this guy seems to have for her though and pushes through it.

“Pushed me.” She corrects. “Threatened to do more.”

“He will never hurt you again.”

She smiles at his sweet statement, even when she knows he’s just talking now. He knows nothing about her life, and she’s not even sure she wants to see him again after this.

“I like you. You’re sweet.”

Her voice is small, but she means her words. Even when she doesn’t mean them in the way he thinks. She likes him, because he appears to be kind and genuine. He appears to be interested. She likes it more than she probably likes him, but she won’t deny herself the freedom of figuring it out on her own timing.

“I like you too.” He whispers, causing her to smile softly to herself.

The Uber arrives the next minute, timed to perfection. She gives him a soft peck on his cheek before parting ways, feeling weirdly buzzed as she drives back home. There’s so much that happened for her tonight and she doesn’t even know where to start unpacking.

All she knows is that even during her lovely evening tonight, she missed _him_. She hates how every time she thinks of Blake now, she’s reminded of how she lost control with him. She was serious about not being that girl. She allowed herself to be selfish and it almost ended up with her doing the one thing she said she never would. Despite of her dislike for his fiancée, she would never want to be the person to break that up. She never wants to be the girl she cursed so many times during her own relationship.

Meeting Dean tonight had been surprisingly easy; conversation had flown naturally and she didn’t spend any time overthinking. There was something missing though; that spark, that feeling that reminded her of the highest highs and most terrifying lows. She hadn’t felt what she felt that first time with Blake; like liquid adrenaline being injected right into her bloodstream, enough to make her tingle and put her body in motion. Something that went far beyond her own understanding.

She had known. It been immediate. The moment her palms connected with his chest that night, any last doubt or uncertainty had dissipated immediately. His scent, his body, the sound of his laboured breathing—all manifesting in a visual of the man she’d spent over a decade to find.

He was warm, firm, inviting. He was everything she’d ever wanted and she took the opportunity, explored him, ran her hands over every inch of her chest, no matter how selfish. She’d let herself for a moment believe she could be lucky in love, let herself believe in a world where he wasn’t getting married to someone else, a world where she didn’t fall for a man that would never be hers.

Her parents had taught her not to be selfish. They had taught her the opposite of what she’d done that day, and tonight’s events had finally caused her to see the light.

Blake’s her friend.

He wants her to be there for an important day in his life, no matter how difficult that will be for her. She’d been selfish already, she is ready to do the right thing this time.

She is ready to stand in the light again.

Arriving back home, she’d barely kicked her shoes off before reaching for her phone. Her text to him is short, but to the point. She closes her eyes as she waits for the inevitable response. She’ll answer it positively, just like she will act the day of the party.

_I want to be there, if you’ll still have me._


	7. Shoot The Lights and Curse The Dark

A gentle breeze cascades through the late summer air, lightly caressing the faces of the small gathering of people as they wait with their drinks in hand. The get-together is small, outdoors, and what appears to be romantic as they stand in front of the neatly decorated countryside. It makes him feel much more at ease than the first option Miranda had come up with, when she first brought the idea of a pre-wedding party to him. He’s not one to have these types of things to begin with, aside from the obvious bachelor party and actual wedding reception. This on the other hand, is something he’s doing mostly—solely—for her.

He’s glad she didn’t make him dress up to the nines for this either, and neither did she, which is totally fine with him. He loves her no matter what, and this more laidback attire feels much more authentic anyway. He’s wearing well-fitting jeans, complete with a black vest. Miranda is wearing a little white dress, the lace around the sleeves the only indication it’s not just a summer dress she’s worn multiple times. Again, it’s the simplicity that he likes.

She hasn’t left his side yet, and he can’t help but think how different this feels. Her hand keeps grabbing onto his arm, occasionally retreating to slide across his back or linger on his waist. He’s not particularly upset with her touches; he just wishes they weren’t so rare to begin with. She smiles up at him sweetly, her lips pressing into the side of his arm. It’s weird to think about how soon this woman will be more than just his fiancée, he’ll be married again, for the second time. There’s a tightness in his chest at the possibility of this not working out, and there’s a rational part of his brain that’s aware of how inappropriate the thought is.

He looks over the small group of friends that have gathered here with them, celebrating what’s about to be the next best chapter of his life. He hears the music from the speakers brushing through the air, causing Miranda to sway softly against his side.

“This is nice.” She muses, her hand still having a dead grip on his arm. “Us being here. Us getting married soon. The people closest to us being here to celebrate.”

Blake nods, the comment striking him even harder at the empty chair that’s taunting him.

He remembers his mother’s words all too well; she would be there for the wedding, but she couldn’t pretend to be enthusiastic about his decision, so she would sit this one out. Miranda and his mom have never been too keen on each other, so the decision didn’t come as too much of a shock. Still, having his fiancée so casually refer to everyone here as the ‘people closest to them’, makes him a little uneasy.

“I’m glad they’re here too.” Blake settles on eventually, leaning down to peck her sweetly on the forehead.

He’s not interested in fighting with her, especially not today. He understands how this day is mostly about her anyways; he’s just here to remind people, and himself, of why this decision is right for them. He’s here to show Miranda he’s perfectly capable of fulfilling her wishes, be what she needs. He can be for her what he vowed to be for his first wife.

He feels her arm starting to drag him towards a group of her friends, and for the next few minutes he’s fully occupied with charming his way into the hearts of her friends and conducting a bunch of small talk that he would usually hate. Miranda is still plastered to his side throughout it all, and he switches from occasionally rubbing slow circles across her back, to pressing her into his side with his arm to keep her close. Sometimes it’s the only way he feels confident in his ability to keep her from straying too far.

His friend, Chris, announces he’ll be giving a speech soon, causing Blake to smile gratefully. The group of people gathered together on the beautiful piece of land has grown a bit, but his head doesn’t dart up until he notices Gwen making her entrance. She’s wearing a stylish black dress, that comes just below the knee. Her feet are decorated in the most feminine shoes he’s ever seen, her hair down in curled waves as it gently frames her face.

He doesn’t move towards her, instead he stays standing with the group of people his fiancée had dragged him to. Miranda’s arm tightens around his waist a bit as Gwen takes it upon herself to walk up to them. He smiles gently down at her, using his free arm to pull her in for a brief hug. Miranda does the same thing afterwards, looking unimpressed at the arrival of the stunning writer.

“I’m happy you could make it, Gwen.” He says gently, hoping she can pick up on exactly how much he means that. He knows it wasn’t easy for her to show up, and he’s grateful she came around for some reason.

“I wouldn’t wanna miss it.” She replies quickly, smiling softly before introducing herself to the group of people surrounding her.

He takes the moment to take her in, watch her weave her way into everyone’s good graces, just by being herself. He’s in awe of the little effort it takes to get people to warm up to her, her presence shining brightly not only to him.

“Chris is about to make a toast.” Miranda chimes in, swaying Blake again as she presses herself against his chest. “Should we go over there already?”

Her voice is hopeful, but there’s something in her eyes that tells him this wasn’t a question.

He uses his arm to squeeze her shoulder lightly, hoping to relieve some of the tension she’s feeling suddenly. He nods in agreement, looking over to the group of friends, including Gwen.

“See you guys in a little bit?” His arm continues to hold on to his fiancée.

The women in front of him nod, but he doesn’t miss the way Gwen’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Or the way she’s trying hard not to maintain eye contact with him for more than two seconds. He wants to pull her aside and make sure she’s okay, but something tells him he just doesn’t have that power. He smiles again weakly, before he and Miranda head out to where most of the visitors are standing.

It takes less than five minutes for everyone to be gathered there, the music suddenly being turned to a lower volume, only being heard if you strained your ears to listen. Chris’s hand pats his shoulder gently, all his friends looking at him expectantly. Miranda grabs onto his hand for good measure, while he watches Gwen stand next to his manager.

“Blake gave me the honour of saying a little something today, which I’m realizing now is much more nerve-racking than I initially gave credit for…” The small group of people can be heard laughing, Blake’s smirk wide as Miranda tightens her hold on him once again. “But what brings me the absolute most joy, is to see two of my friends find happiness together in such a monumental way. Two people who found each other through music, and have managed to hold on. Words brought them together in more ways than one, and I’m honoured to give a few of mine just to express how happy I am for you guys.”

The words of his friend are beautiful, and in any other moment, he would find them incredibly romantic. Right now, his speech manages to describe everything he wishes he had with her. He makes the mistake to seek out Gwen’s gaze, who looks equally mortified. He _did_ find someone through music, he was _indeed_ brought closer to someone by the sheer force of words and lyrics—but it wasn’t the woman clinging to him right now.

“Anyways, Blake, you’ve been my friend for over ten years, I can honestly say that I never thought you’d meet someone so up your ally. Miranda, we’re proud of you for sticking with this guy, we know he can be a bit of a handful…”

Again, the people around them erupt in silent laughter and chuckles, but Blake can’t do anything but follow Gwen with his eyes. She’s avoiding his gaze with everything she has, looking down at the ground while forcing out rehearsed smiles and chuckles when needed.

“I wish you two nothing but everlasting happiness. Congratulations, my brother.”

Chris moves in for a hug, and Blake does his best to convey his gratitude. It’s the first time since arriving here that Miranda has fully let go of his side, clapping alongside the rest of their friends when his speech is over. He watches Chris lean in to hug Miranda, whispering a few words to her which he can’t make out. He holds on to her again, trying to ignore Gwen’s obvious wince when Miranda leans up to kiss him deeply in front of his friends.

The party goes on for another hour without him so much as speaking a single word to Gwen. She keeps her distance and he doesn’t try to push her for more. Instead, he focuses all his attention on his fiancée, enjoying the way she for once doesn’t shy away from his advances.

  
*

She’s starving. This morning she was too nervous to eat, the prospect of coming here having kept her up all night. She’s relieved by the way she seems to be received by Blake’s friends, conversations having flowed pretty easily, especially considering her nerves. She tries not to ponder too long over the fact Blake has tried nothing to engage in any conversation with her, a part of her also relieved. They’re not good at playing it cool, and she thinks that minimal interaction might be the only way to survive tonight.

Standing in front of the large buffet, stuffed out across a few large tables, she suddenly feels a hand on her shoulder. For a moment, she hopes it’s Blake, but she’s quickly snapped out of that thought.

“Dean, oh my god, what are you doing here?” Her voice is shaky as she takes in the handsome stranger she’s been casually texting ever since meeting him at that bar.

His smile is large, his arms inviting as he initiates a lingering hug.

“I could ask the same thing to you.” He muses against her ear, his lips lingering just a tad too long against the shell of her ear.

She pulls away nervously, all her appetite suddenly forgotten.

“I’m serious.” She breathes, managing at a soft but nervous smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Blake invited me.” Dean replies pointedly, his smile never leaving his face. “We’ve known each other for quite a while. Weirdly enough, _this_ never came up.”

She feels like the wind just got knocked out of her, her legs feeling wobbly at the realization. She doesn’t want to think about the mess she just got herself into. She doesn’t want to think about how she’d let him take her out on two dates since that faithful meeting at the cafeteria. She _definitely_ doesn’t want to think about how she allowed him to press his lips to hers on both occasions after that.

“You’re his friend?” Gwen asks mortified, shaking her head in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.”

“Look, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re best friends, either. Besides, we didn’t know.”

She looks at him wide-eyed, her heart slamming against her chest.

“We kissed.”

“I was hoping that wouldn’t stop for a while.”

She gasps. “It _has_ to stop.”

Dean frowns. “Why?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it when she realizes she’s at a loss for words. Of course, this is her luck. She tried moving on, tried focusing on something else besides her inappropriate thoughts about her about-to-be-married friend. She tried to do the healthy thing; go out, meet new people, explore her single life a little. And out of all people, she sets her sights on one of Blake’s friends.

“I know you didn’t just ask me why. How can you ask me why?” Gwen finally speaks, hoarsely. “This isn’t right. I never would’ve done any of this if I had known…”

“But you didn’t.” He cuts in quickly, reaching his hand out to her arm. “We didn’t know. It’s fine.”

She gently wiggles her arm away from his touch, shaking her head again.

“We can’t.”

As if the world doesn’t think this moment is cruel enough, Blake finally decided he wanted to acknowledge her existence at the exact same time. She closes her eyes at the sound of his voice, the hand on Dean’s shoulder squeezing friendly.

“Glad to see both my friends could make it.” Blake beams, patting Dean’s shoulder once.

“Congratulations, my man.” Dean’s voice is cheery, his arms inviting when he pulls Blake in for another hug. Gwen’s feet feel like they’re nailed to the spot, not moving an inch.

“I see you’ve met Gwen already.” Blake speaks gently, looking at Dean with an oblivious look in his eyes.

She hates this. She hates how she feels like she’s done something wrong. Dean doesn’t seem to have that problem, his eyes still lighting up at the mention of her name.

“I sure have. Talking about that…”

“—Blake, can we talk for a second.” Gwen cuts in, staring down at her new friend, hard.

Blake looks a bit confused, not aware of exactly what’s going on, but not oblivious to the weird mood either.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just want to talk. Walk with me?”

Her heart is beating out of control, but she gets a brief moment of relief when he nods. Dean decides not to make this any harder either, and walks off with one final piece of encouragement towards Blake.

She starts walking down the grass path underneath their feet, feeling strange about having him stand so close to her again. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just walks with her, and she wishes she didn’t have to disrupt the peaceful moment. Especially considering their whereabouts.

“Blake.” She starts gently, his face snapping up to hers at the mention of his name.

He hums. “What’s going on, Gwen?”

She stops walking then, looking around and sighing in relief when she realizes they’re alone. Blake stands still in front of her, looking at her expectantly.

“Dean.”

Blake nods, still oblivious. “What about him?”

“I didn’t know he was your friend. I didn’t even know you knew him.”

Blake eyes squint at her, confusion written all over his face.

“Okay….”

“I went back to that place you took me to, a few times. The one where you basically forced me to sing.”

“I didn’t force you.” Blake says sternly, his features soft, but his voice determined. “I just wanted you to see your full potential.”

“I know, I know.” She muses, trying to get this conversation back on the right track. “I went back there alone, because I wanted to keep doing it.”

Blake beams proudly. “Gwen, that’s great!”

“I met Dean there. He approached me after I came off stage, and we had a few drinks.”

Blake’s face falls at the sudden turn of her story, his head cocking as he tries to digest the new information.

“I didn’t know he was your friend, and I thought he was nice and we…” She clears her throat, suddenly feeling scrutinized underneath his gaze. “We’ve been on a few dates.”

Blake sucks in an unsteady breath quietly, his eyes never wavering from her face. He looks like he wants to say something, but refrains himself a few times. She feels a tightness in her chest at the way he keeps looking at her, the usual desire and admiration lacking from his gaze.

“Have you…”

“No, god no.” She interjects quickly, shaking her head furiously to further make her point. “We made out, but that’s it. Nothing else happened, and nothing else will happen.”

Blake nods, his eyes closing before looking at her again.

“Do you want to sleep with him?”

The question throws her for a loop, her lips parting slightly.

“What…” She stutters out the beginning of her sentence, before having to start again. “What does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

She nods. “It doesn’t.”

“Does he know you wanted to sleep with me?”

This time, her mouth parts on a loud gasp. She looks around frantically as if someone could’ve heard, someone like his fiancée.

“How can you ask me that?” She whispers at him angrily, stepping closer to make sure she doesn’t have to speak louder than a whisper for him to hear. “We’re standing at your goddamn, pre-wedding party, for God’s sake.”

“You chose this moment to tell me about him, so I’m choosing this moment to ask you.”

“That’s different.” She hisses. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You think I _like_ telling you about this? I just didn’t want you to find out any other way. I thought it was best if it came from me.”

“Do you wanna keep seeing him?”

“I…I don’t know.” She stammers. “It’s not like we’re dating or something. It’s just— “

“Fun?”

“I don’t know.” She admits softly, breaking his gaze. “I don’t know what this is or what I feel. All I know is I wanted some goddamn distraction and I end up making out with one of your friends.”

“Distraction from what?” Blake asks, disregarding the rest of her statement and going straight for what matters most to him.

“From life, from writing, everything. Blake, I’ve been here for a month and a half—I need to meet some people, instead of being cooked up in a room with _you_ all day.”

Blake frowns, looking semi-offended.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The fact that you go home to a girlfriend while I go home to an empty rental _and_ the fact that you even have to ask me that, answers your question.”

Blake sighs, running a hand through his hair.

She looks at him softly, pained by her own feelings and haunted by the way she still feels way too much for the man standing in front of her.

“You’re right.” He states eventually, forcing a smile onto his lips. “I’m being selfish.”

“Blake.”

“If you want to keep seeing him, you should.”

Her eyes widen at his words, but she keeps quiet.

“You don’t have to stop whatever you’ve got going on with him. Not for me.”

She nearly groans at his words, realizing she should feel happy, relieved, but instead she feels hurt.

“I don’t want to keep seeing him.”

“Then don’t. Just don’t let it be because of me.”

She looks at him, dumbfounded. “So you just don’t care?”

He shakes his head, waving towards the place they just walked away from.

“It’s your life, Gwen. I can’t tell you what to do, and I don’t want to.” He looks at her with a little grimace of a smile, avoiding her eyes. “I should go back to my— “

“Fiancée, yeah, you do that.”

Blake nods. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not.”

A few beats pass between them, his presence suddenly feeling heavy on her heart.

“Blake, why are you still…”

“We’re releasing a song together.”

Her brain freezes for a moment, unable to process the information. Her eyes seek out his, but he keeps his gaze firmly aimed at the ground.

“What do you mean?” She asks dumbly, forcing herself to maintain control.

“We wrote a song together. She wants to release it immediately, and the label agreed on putting it out this Friday.”

She feels the air leave her lungs, desperately trying to keep herself from cowering in front of him. He wrote a song with his fiancée—there’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing except for the fact _they’ve_ written a bunch of songs together that have yet to see the light of day. He told her writing with Miranda was close to impossible, and yet...

“I thought you said you wanted Anyone Else to be the first song released off the new project.”

“I still want that song out there.” Blake agrees, his features softening. “She’s just really excited about this song, and to be honest, I think it can be a big one.”

Gwen hums. “What happened to wanting to be genuine?”

“This _is_ genuine, Gwen.” Blake argues, holding steady. “I wrote a song with someone I love and we want to put it out in real time.”

“Will it be a single?”

“Probably.” Blake nods.

“So everything we wrote will be pushed back?”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing, the whole thing sounding like an out of body experience. She doesn’t know why she believed that at _least_ their writing was sacred, at least that was something he wanted to do only with her. Now, not even that is reserved for her.

“I still want all those songs out there, nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed.” She spits out, holding her hand out in apology for raising her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m just... I don’t get this.”

“I’m sorry for blindsiding you; the decision was a quick one and I haven’t really had the time to talk to you about it yet.”

“Look, I’m here to help you write your album.” She starts quietly. “Whatever you decide to do with these songs is up to you. If you want to put out something more familiar, something more like what you’ve done before, who am I to stop you.”

“Gwen...”

“No, it’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I’m glad you were able to write with her; I know that hasn’t always been easy.”

“Gwen.” He insists, raising his volume just a little bit.

Again, she ignores it.

“I’m supporting your decision, Blake. Isn’t that what a good friend is supposed to do?”

She lets the question linger between them, realizing there’s no way he’ll be able to answer honestly. Not if he wants to stand here and tell her he needs to go back to his fiancée. Not if he gives any shits about being a good man.

Much like she expected, he keeps quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I still appreciate all the feedback and comments on this one. Work has been killing me, and so I haven’t been online as much— but I see every tweet, and try to reply to each comment!
> 
> {Comments are still fuel to my fire. Please let me know what you think }


	8. Sorry Just Ain't Good Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a whole lotta angst....and some new beginnings

He should’ve seen it coming. 

He’s been clinging to something toxic all along. Holding on to hope that was never his to hold. Putting all his effort in a relationship that ripped him apart from the moment he entered it. But he loves her. If there’s anything he knows for sure, it’s that his love for her had been genuine. Still is.

No one told him about the many ways that can become meaningless. He never knew how much betrayal could hurt, until he was the one on the receiving end. He never knew how many times a heart could break, until his was snapped in half right after piecing it back together again. 

If he wanted to do what’s right, he’d pick up a paper and pen and get to work. He’d create something beautiful out of this tragedy. But he doesn’t want to do what’s right; he wants to tear everything up, every relationship, every shimmer of hope, every last piece of redemption. He wants destruction. He wants to be angry. 

So instead of turning lemons into lemonade, he pours himself another glass of dark liquor. The taste makes his mouth screw up, but he doesn’t care. He welcomes his sight becoming blurry, cause it means his memories start becoming less vivid too. He welcomes the numbing feeling spreading through his body, cause it means not feeling the heaviness for a moment. He welcomes the fatigue spreading through his limbs, cause it means he’s probably close to passing out soon.

Maybe being asleep will finally cause him to stop playing back the moment in which he’s walking in on his fiancée fucking his best friend. Chris, who spoke at their party only a week ago.

He throws back another small shot of strong liquor, before smashing the empty glass against the nearest wall. He watches it shatter in a thousand pieces. 

He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be in Nashville while his family is back home anymore. He doesn’t want to spent another night in the house he’s only lived in with the woman who decided to break him. He doesn’t want to write anymore. He’s tired of all of it.

The front door unlocks then, his body tensing immediately. He’s up on shaky legs, not needing any explanation on who just walked in.

“Get the hell out.” 

He hisses the words through gritted teeth, feeling an anger he’s never felt before. He’s never felt the urge to hurt his ex-fiancée before and he knows he never could, but for his peace of mind, he wants her to stay back.

“Blake, please listen to me.”

Her voice sounds uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. He looks at her tormented face, noticing her eyes are red and puffy, probably from crying.

Good, he thinks.

“There’s nothing left to say. I need you to pack your things and leave.”

“Blake- “

“Actually, fuck that, you can get your things another time. Just get the hell out.”

Her sigh is loud and he’s surprised when she takes a step forward instead of heading for the door again.

“You’re drunk. I know you’re angry and you have every right to be, but please let me help you.”

“You want to help me?” Blake repeats bitterly, holding her gaze until she nods softly. “You can help me by getting in your car, drive as far away from here as you possibly can, and then go fuck yourself.”

The way her hand moves to cover her mouth should make him feel bad, but instead it thrills him. Miranda has never been one to openly show her emotions, especially not to him. Seeing her struggle to keep it together right now, fills him with a strange sense of pride. 

It’s fucked up.

“I don’t...” She shakes her head, her breath catching. “I can’t just leave you like this.”

As to prove her point, he stumbles over his own feet as he tries to get away from her. His hand reaches out for the wall next to him, steadying himself just in time before he’d hit the ground.

“It’s funny.” Blake slurs. “Funny how you didn’t seem to care about me at all when you spread your legs for my best friend.”

The words still feel surreal. He knows their relationship was flawed, but he never saw this coming.

“I’m so sorry, Blake.” She takes another step forward, her eyes watery. “If I could make it up to you somehow, I would.”

“He can have you.”

“Don’t say that.”

Blake snorts.

“You have some nerve telling me what I can and can’t say, after seeing what I saw. Tell me...” he chuckles, realizing his tone and words are tearing her up inside. “How many times?”

Her brows raise, tears still pooling in her eyes.

“How many times?”

“How many times did you let him screw you? How many times did you invite him to _our_ bed? And for God’s sake, be a woman about it and don’t lie.”

He can see her eyes close painfully, her legs taking a few shaky steps backwards.

“Three times.” She whispers hoarsely, the admission slapping him in the face, even though he asked for it himself. “The first time was when you cancelled on our night a few weeks ago. The other two times happened when you were writing with her.”

Blake nods. The realization of his best friend coming over to fuck his fiancée while he was out writings songs with Gwen, makes him dizzy. Dizzier than any booze ever could.

“I hate you.”

His legs won’t support him anymore, as he slides down the wall painfully slow. He doesn’t look at her until he’s fully seated on the ground, his eyes burning with a rage that terrifies him.

“I hate you.” He repeats.

“Blake, just let me—” She takes a tentative step forward, obviously wanting to help him back up. 

“Don’t.” He hisses, stopping her effectively. “Just get out. Please, leave me alone.”

She gasps again, and it takes him a while to figure out why she’s staring at him with such fear. He didn’t even realize how he’d slid down onto the ground, right where the shot glass had shattered before. His hand had landed right into the mess of shattered glass, leaving him with a nasty cut that reaches all the way from his thumb to the palm of his hand.

“It’s nothing.” He murmurs, holding his hand up to prove it doesn’t hurt and wincing when a few drops of blood stain his wrist.

“I’ll call Brandon.” She says, her eyes sad.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not leaving you alone. Not in this state.”

“Get. Out.” His voice is picking up volume again, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions.

Finally, she obeys his wish. He hates how the pained look in her eyes feels so similar to his own, even though he was the one who got fucked over. He hates how watching her leave still manages to make breathing a bit harder for him. 

He waits for the door to fall shut behind her, closing his eyes when the sound of the lock turning confirms her leaving. 

It feels fitting; sitting in a bunch of shattered and broken pieces of glass, blood dripping down his wrist, and nothing but the loss of love and friendship colouring the piercing silence.

*

She’d left her house immediately. His manager never called her before, not since he reached out and asked if she wanted to work with his artist. 

The tone of his voice had been so worried; she didn’t even think twice about running out of her rented apartment. She’d driven to the house she’s only been at once to write.

The lights outside are all off, the only light she sees illuminating the darkness is one coming from the living room. Her heart feels heavy while her legs carry her up the patio, the sound of another car approaching halting her.

She looks back into blinding headlights, blinking furiously before Brandon jumps out the black cruiser. He approaches her quickly, giving her a sweet nod in acknowledgment. It’s the last thing he does before knocking on Blake’s door, looking back at her with worry written all over his features.

“I figured it’d be good having you here too, since he likes you.” Brandon elaborates as if she asked, his face growing impatient when Blake doesn’t open the door. “Miranda called me. Apparently, it’s bad, real bad.”

Gwen’s heart drops, confusion settling in.

“What happened?” She asks, getting a bit restless as they wait outside his place. 

Brandon knocks again, this time more determinedly.

“They broke up, that’s all I know. She told me he got drunk and he’s bleeding.”

“What?” Gwen nearly yells, moving to stand right next to Brandon before slamming her first against his door, twice. “Blake, open up. It’s me.”

She doesn’t know why she thinks that will help, but she’s willing to try whatever.

Brandon sighs in frustration, reaching deep into his pocket and retrieving a spare key. She can tell he’s reluctant about using it, torn between respecting his privacy and bursting in to help him. At this point, Gwen’s quite ready to grab the keys from his hands and let herself in.

She waits for Brandon to unlock the door, knowing they need to thread carefully. Plus, Blake must’ve given him the key for emergencies. This feels like one. The door pushes open easily, the smell of alcohol hitting her like a thick fog. Brandon is the first one to speak up, announcing their arrival.

“Blake buddy, you in here? Gwen and I heard you might need some company.”

She recognizes the large foyer and hallway, feeling a familiar rush creep up on her. Rounding the corner, she takes in the dark living room and the overwhelming smell of alcohol.

She gasps when she takes in the sight in front of her. Blake’s slumped back against the wall, his eyes droopy as he stares down at the ground. 

“Blake, look at me.” She whispers before crouching down to his level, both her hands cupping his cheeks. He lifts his head to look at her briefly, before fighting against her hold and looking back down.

“Ya shouldn’t be here.” He drawls lowly, his voice sounding rough and quiet. 

“What the hell happened here, brother?” His manager and friend asks, touching Blake’s knee with his hand. “Come on, get up. You need to get up out of this mess.”

Gwen nods, her eyes adverting to the pieces of glass surrounding them and the sight of dried up blood staining his fingers and sleeve.

“He’s right, come on Blake. We’ll help you up.”

He grunts in response to her, but luckily his manager isn’t having it. He steadies himself with one hand against the wall, while his other one gives Blake’s a harsh tug. Gwen uses her strength to help steady him when he’s up, her arm sliding around his back for support.

Brandon does most of the heavy lifting, occasionally scolding Blake for not working with them. His sigh is piercing when he’s lowering back on the couch, his body sinking into the leather cushions. Gwen can’t help but tear up at the sight. She knows Blake as the vulnerable artists, who feels more deeply than he’s willing to admit. But never did she think she’d witness him like this. So broken down. So defeated.

It scares her, because she found strength in his spirit. She likes the way he keeps smiling in spite of his demons. She likes the way he makes her feel, even when he’s not feeling well himself. Blake is the type of man to fight for others until he physically can’t anymore. Blake is the type of man that’s worth fighting for. 

His manager disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes, before walking back in with steady strides. He hands Blake a large glass of water, looking like he’s ready to fight when Blake shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” Blake mumbles inaudibly. “Don’t need it.”

“Shut the fuck up and drink.”

She doesn’t know much about the man forcing Blake to stay hydrated, but she’s quickly picking up some things. He’s persistent in the same way he talked her into working with Blake. He’s strong-willed and determined in the way he speaks to Blake. From what she can tell, he’s a great friend, and not afraid to put him in place when needed. Brandon appears to know what Blake needs and pushes for it to happen. He fights for him and it dawns on her that maybe Blake doesn’t have too many people in his life who do that for him. She realizes she might need to step it up if she wants to become a driving force in his life.

Fighting for Blake might mean she has to fight for herself. That realization both sends a chill of fear and excitement up her spine.

“Did she call you?” Blake asks painfully, taking a sip of water before scrunching his nose.

“She’s worried about you.”

“Bullshit.” Blake hisses angrily, seemingly regretful a second later.

Gwen gets it too; Brandon is not the one who’s deserving of his anger, and Blake didn’t mean to lash out at him. She’s no stranger to heartbreak and the way it can consume your whole being, until the whole world feels like something to be mad at.

She aches for him.

“If she really cared that much, she wouldn’t have….” Blake shakes his head, making the two adults strain their ears as they try to catch his words. “…. My best friend, my fucking best friend.”

Gwen can’t help the confusion that portrays on her face, not sure whether the alcohol is causing him to now say random shit, or if there’s something else she’s missing.

“Why don’t you try to lay down for a second?” She tries sweetly, sitting down next to him.

“She fucked my best friend, you know that?”

His blue eyes are glassy and cold, his hand clenching around the glass. She reaches out for his fingers, afraid he might break the glass and hurt himself more.

“I walked in on ‘em.” Blake continues, either unaware or uncaring of the way Gwen’s hand is covering his fingers, the touch more intimate than she meant it to be.

Gwen’s breathing gets stuck in her throat, the thought of walking in on your significant other doing dirt like that making her physically sick. She’s been unfortunate enough to have fallen victim to her ex-boyfriend’s infidelity more than once, but she doesn’t think she could survive having the image permanently engraved in her brain.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry Blake.” Her words are soft and broken, her own emotions running loose.

“We’re here to help you, buddy.” Brandon speaks up, landing his hand on Blake’s shoulder and squeezing supportively. “You can feel as shitty as you need to, you can lash out at me all you want—you know I can take it. But this, this you _can’t_ do. Getting black-out drunk, hurting yourself, jeopardizing all that you’ve worked for.”

“I don’t care about none of that anymore.” Blake slurs worse than before, his free hand gripping his forehead.

“Yeah, you do.” His manager retorts matter-of-factly. “I know you. I know how you turn to booze when things get rough and I also know that this music you’ve been making lately has saved you in a different way.”

Gwen’s eyes dart up to Brandon, her heart feeling strangely validated at hearing those words. She looks back at Blake who’s still sitting motionless on the couch, occasionally shaking his head as if to show his denial.

“You’re gonna have to pick yourself up from this, man.” Brandon continues, pointing towards the glass of water and forcing Blake to pick it up again. “Feel sad, break things, lean on us…but don’t let her take what you’ve worked so hard to build.”

“I wouldn’t even have met her if I never got booked that performance.” Blake speaks ruefully, taking a careful sip of his glass. “My career, Miranda, it’s all the same. It’s all tied together.”

Gwen’s eyes drop down to his hands, seeing the gash on his hand still occasionally producing a small stream of blood. She winces when she notices some of the red staining his water glass and she takes it upon herself to walk to the kitchen. Neither one of the men make a sound when she excuses herself and she rummages through his cabinets, taking the liberty to run upstairs and search his bathroom for anything useful.

She comes back five minutes later, having found the most pathetic first-aid kid, but it will have to do. Blake’s eyes widen when she scoots closer next to him, reaching for his injured hand.

“Gwen, I don’t— “

“You’re bleeding.” She states again, shutting him up quickly. “You’re bleeding and you’re hurt. I’m gonna take care of it.”

She speaks the words with such finality and confidence, he doesn’t further fight her on it. Brandon tries to speak more encouragements to Blake, but a part of her doesn’t think he’s ready to hear it. His eyes keep going back to where Gwen is holding on to his hand, wrapping it up in a bandage. He winces when she applies a bit more pressure, making sure the bleeding has stopped.

“I’m tired.” Blake slurs, trying to lean back into the couch but not getting far from the way Gwen is still holding on to his wrist.

“I don’t think you should be alone tonight.” Brandon replies, seemingly making a case for him to stay.

“No way.” Blake cuts in, still clear despite his exhaustion. “You’re not staying.”

“I’ll stay.” Gwen speaks softly, eying his manager to let him know it’s alright.

Blake’s gaze flies back to hers, his eyes portraying a sadness she wishes she’d never have to see from him. She smiles gently, trying to ignore how much of his pain becomes her own.

“You should go home.” He speaks hoarsely, sighing when she lets go of his wrist.

“Brandon is right, you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

She can pinpoint the exact moment where his patience turns to frustration, and she braces herself for the outburst that’s bound to follow.

“I need to be alone.” Blake emphasizes, his voice raising just slightly. “I’m fine and I definitely don’t need no babysitter. Go home. Both of you.”

“Blake...”

As soon as the words leave her lips, Blake shoots off the couch and into the kitchen. She shares one confused look with his manager before the sounds of him emptying his stomach reaches the living room. Gwen closes her eyes in a grimace before looking around and eying the messy state in which he left the living room.

“He can’t be alone tonight.” Brandon speaks to her softly. “I know him better than he knows himself, sometimes. He’s barely holding on.”

Gwen nods. “I know.”

“Are you sure you wanna stay?”

She’s pushing herself off the couch as they speak, carrying herself towards the kitchen. It’s heartbreaking to see Blake like this, but she also knows for a fact that she doesn’t want to leave him tonight. She wants to be there to help him through it, in whatever way she can.

“I’m sure.” She nods, rounding the corner to walk up behind Blake.

His frame is hunched over the kitchen sink, his hands gripping the marble tightly. His chest is heaving while the occasional gagging sounds fill the room. Her hand slides up his back, resting there gently before cooing soft and gentle words.

“Gwen...” He rasps, shaking his head. “You don’t have to be here. I’m a mess and I— “

His words get interrupted by another wave of nausea that results in throwing up, and she keeps her hand lightly on his back. Her fingers rub slow circles across his spine, hoping to relax him a little bit.

“It’s okay.” She whispers. “How about we get you cleaned up a bit and into bed?”

She can tell by the way his hands clench and unclench around the kitchen counter, that her words stir something inside him. She’s halfway expecting him to tell her off and convince her to leave once more, but instead he nods bashfully.

“I’m so tired.”

His voice is rough and scratchy, his eyes red and puffy when he turns around to look at her. She hates how he almost looks embarrassed as he stands there before her, and she bites her lip to refrain her from pointing it out.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

She holds her arm out for him to lean on, and she’s pleasantly surprised when he does just that. Brandon leaves eventually when he realizes Blake is no longer fighting Gwen’s staying. It takes her longer than expected to get him up the stairs, his exhausted body not made for those steps. He leans on her heavily and she works hard at not staggering by the force of his weight on her. Pushing open the bathroom door, she lets him lean against the wall to find his bearings. She’s shocked into a gasp when he slides down the wall there, finding himself overtaken by emotion once again. She doesn’t help him up this time, instead she lowers to her knees in front of him and washes some of the sweat from his forehead and chin. She washes his face gently, not wanting to startle him or hurt his already fragile being. He doesn’t react to her touches at all, and she recognizes the stunned, numb feeling all too well. She only helps him up so he can brush his teeth, waiting against the vanity until he’s ready. She helps him into his bedroom, out of his clothes and sighs in relief when he finally finds his way underneath the covers.

His eyes dart up to find hers as his back hits the mattress, his breathing still heavy.

“You can stay in here.”

She doesn’t hesitate at all. She makes sure the covers are fully engulfing him, before gently laying herself down next to him. There’s a little bit of space between their bodies, but her hand soothingly glides through his curls a few times. She can tell he’s debating on talking to her, but by the clearing of his throat and scratchy sounds coming from his lips, she urges him to do the opposite.

It should feel strange—sharing a bed with him, but instead it feels right; like it’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. Her hands continue to ease some of the tension out of his body, softly scratching his scalp with her manicured nail. She can tell by his laboured breathing that he’s close to falling asleep, and she encourages it more.

She can’t stop staring at him. He’s lying on his back, face turned to the opposite side from her. The rise and fall of his chest is much calmer than it was a few minutes ago, his curly hair splayed out on the pillow. The top part of his shirt is undone so his short chest hairs are on full display. She wants to move closer and run her fingers over the exposed strip of skin, but she doesn’t want to risk waking him. It took long enough for him to finally succumb to slumber. She does move a little closer to him, and she can smell the aroma of alcohol still lingering on his skin. She realizes she probably should’ve helped him shower first, but his sadness had moved her so much, she just wanted to get him to sleep. Her nurturing side wouldn’t allow her to let him spend another conscious moment in his misery. 

She reaches with a finger to trace over the curve of Blake’s bicep. He twitches a little, stilling again after a few seconds. She can see the heavy bags underneath his bloodshot eyes, and the way his limbs are tensed, even in his sleep. She recognizes the state of heartbreak; the overwhelming sadness that comes with losing someone you thought was part of you. She knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help but press a soft and lingering kiss to his cheek. It’s been a while since she cared for anyone like this, and seeing him this hurt has her own heart in a death grip.

At least when she and Jake parted, there was a sense of freedom there. A sense of safety. She’d allowed things to get as bad as they did, and that’s why she was suffering. She wasn’t in extra pain because she left, she wasn’t even that hurt about their splitting up—she was hurt by everything she allowed _before_ that point. She got hurt by allowing him to numb his physical pain with white powder and his mental pain with black thoughts. Thoughts that were made hers.

She _escaped_ her relationship, while Blake lost his.

“When I thought about this moment in my head, I never imagined it hurt this much.” His deep voice startles her, her head slowly lifting from the pillow to look at him accordingly. “My mind is running a mile a minute, every thought just gets obliterated by the next. I don’t even know what I’m thinking about anymore.”

She nods through her confusion, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“How’s your headache?”

“Better.”

“You must be exhausted.” She whispers, her hand running through his curls once more, applying a bit more pressure at his scalp.

He groans his satisfaction. “I just feel…I don’t even know.”

“Numb?” She asks.

“Stunned.”

She bites her lip, pushing past her own ache.

“Stunned is better than numb. It means you still feel something.”

“Out of all people she could’ve picked—she picks him.” Blake’s voice sounds bitter, his eyes turned up to the ceiling. She continues her soft touches in his hair, realizing it relaxes him. “Chris.” Blake elaborates.

Her fingers stutter against his scalp, her movements stopping. She’s never been the best at remembering names, but this one rings a bell—a loud one.

“The one who gave that speech?” She shakes her head, feeling the stunned and disbelieving feeling Blake described, seeping into her own body.

Blake hums. “Some friend, huh?”

Her eyes widen, the pain she feels for Blake so vivid, she can hardly breathe.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Blake turns his head to look at her, his smile surprising her.

“You’ve said it all along. I didn’t want to hear it then, but you were right.”

“Blake...”

“I should’ve seen her for who she was. I should’ve listened to you when you— “

“—I was selfish.” She interrupts, shaking her head. “I was torn about my feelings for you and I was being jealous. You had every right to shut me down, to fight for your relationship.”

The admissions leave her lips quickly, throwing them out before she can overthink it. Right now, he needs all the honesty he can get. She won’t let him feel guilty about doing the right thing—about doing what she always knew he would; be a good man.

“It’s going to be a shit storm.” He whispers, looking up at the ceiling again. “The news about this break up coming out soon, while we _just_ released the duet.”

“You can’t think about that right now.”

“How can I not?” He retorts, his hands subconsciously rubbing his thumb and index finger together again.

“Hey.” She whispers, sliding her hand out of his hair and wrapping it around his hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together. But right now, we’re not gonna think about it.”

She feels his hand relax under hers again, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m glad you stayed, Gwen.”

She smiles softly, lifting his hand to her mouth and presses a soft kiss there.

“Like I said, we’ll deal with it together.”


	9. I Can't See Me Never Loving You

His eyes are glassy, the deep blue she’s used to drowning in now a shade darker. He looks less polished, more calloused— and that’s saying something, considering his rugged look most of the time. It’s mind boggling to her how he manages to put so little effort into his appearance and still be this attractive. She tries to shake those thoughts out of her head, knowing the last thing Blake needs right now is her crushing on him. It’s clear he’s in need of a friend and she’s determined to be that for him.

“We don’t have to write today, you know? We can just hang out, maybe drive out to the lake?”

She knows Blake likes to go there whenever he needs to clear his head. He’s told her multiple times about how he went to the lakeside whenever he got overwhelmed; deals falling through, disagreements with his manager or label, fights with his fiancée—_ex_ fiancée. 

Blake shakes his head. “It’s okay. I want to be here.”

His voice sounds rough and gravelly, like he hasn’t been sleeping at all. It makes her wince, the pain and exhaustion he lets out while speaking those words, but she tries not to show her worry.

“Whatever you want, I’m here.” She looks at him intensely, hoping to really convey her sincerity, but Blake’s gaze is not on her. In another desperate attempt to win his attention, she clears her throat and tries a different angle. “Do you have anything specific you want to write about? Maybe even a lyric?”

She’s met with another shake of his head. 

“We can write about, I don’t know, everything.” 

She nods. “Everything is a lot of ground to cover, Blake.”

Finally, he looks at her. She bites her lip at the frustration and sadness she sees pooling in his depths, and fights the urge to comfort him.

“Damn it Gwen, can you just work with me?”

The snappiness of his words surprise her, taking her by surprise.

“Blake, I- “

“I need this.” He cuts her off expertly, his voice still rough. “I need _something_ good to come out of this mess, something positive.”

Gwen fumbles with the hem of her shirt nervously.

“I want to help you do that. You know that.”

“I loved her, y’know?” Blake states, ignoring her previous words. “I know you don’t quite understand why or how, but I did.”

Though she totally understands where he’s coming from, she can’t deny the words sting uncomfortably in her chest. It hurts to know that this woman who never seemed to show her appreciation for Blake, has had his heart in a way Gwen can only dream of. 

“I know you loved her.” She whispers, biting her lip hard as she looks at him. “I know you still do.”

He nods. “When I came out here, she was the first person I met and it’s been us ever since. I don’t even know how to do this career thing without...” He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

Gwen sighs.

“Blake, you’re an incredible artist. You’re an incredible musician, and from what I’ve seen you’ve done most of this on your own. You found your place in this industry by sheer talent and charisma—she didn’t take any of that when she left.”

His eyes are frozen on her, his stare intense and burning. She wants to look away, but the way his eyes lock with hers has her unable to do anything but reciprocate his intensity. 

“Did you mean it when you said we don’t have to write today?” His soft voice asks.

He almost sounds scared and a little surprised and she wants to cry at the vulnerability. It reminds her of a little boy, scared to get reprimanded or shut down and she wonders how much of that he’s felt during his relationship. 

“Blake of course, we don’t have to do anything. I was honestly surprised when you didn’t cancel today, to be quite honest.”

He huffs. “I wanted to, but I don’t know how much good being alone would do me right now. No matter how much I crave it.”

Worry breaks through on her features finally, and it only increases when Blake grows aware and doesn’t say anything to dispute them. 

“You don’t have to be strong for me, Blake. If you can’t handle writing today, then we don’t write.”

Blake lets out a huge sigh and she doesn’t know whether it’s from exhaustion or relief at this point.

“I’m just so tired.” He admits, his voice sounding like a broken murmur.

And exhaustion it is.

“Why don’t you go home?” She asks gently, her hand slowly creeping up to his upper arm and just resting there. “I can drive you, I’ll just Uber back here for my car.”

She waits as he seems to contemplate the offer, but his words don’t bring them much further.

“I hate that place now.” He whispers angrily, his jaw locking as she feels his upper body tense up. “It all feels tainted, every memory serving as a fucked up reminder of all the time I’ve wasted.”

His words shouldn’t hurt her this much, but they do. They remind her of every wound she didn’t have to strength to attend to, and every scar she’s too scared to heal. It reminds her of how fragile her heart is and how easy she’s giving it away. It reminds her of all the shade her ex brought into her life and the hopeful blue she started to focus on when she met Blake.

There are suddenly more colours than she knows how to paint with, and she just prays to God it’ll somehow turn out alright.

“Tell me what I can do.” She whispers, scooting closer to him and silencing the voices that tell her she’s currently crossing boundaries.

“Don’t leave.”

Her head shakes, as her arm tries to reach around his other shoulder but instead settles for the center of his back. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She can tell something is changing in his demeanour, his breathing becoming slightly more ragged. His eyes are welling up, yet there are no real tears and she feels his pain and anger as he tries so hard to keep himself together.

“You said I still love her...” Blake whispers angrily, his hand shaking with the force of it. “But I think I hate her.”

She closes her eyes, not ready for the truth that’s about to spill off her lips.

“You hate what she did to you. You probably also hate how despite everything, you still love her.”

Blake takes a few seconds to look at her before his large frame leans forward, resting his forehead into the palms of his hands. She doesn’t want to make a sudden move that could possibly give him the wrong idea, but she can’t help the hand on his back that slides up to his neck. 

She presses her chin into his shoulder, speaking directly against his ear. “You’re okay.”

It might sound like the silliest thing to say when he’s so obviously distraught, but she smiles inwardly when his eyes meet hers and he seems to understand her words perfectly. He might not feel okay, but he will always _be_ okay. She’ll be here to remind him as often as he needs it. His eyes don’t waver from her face, not even when they water and a few tears escape his heavy lids. She bites her lip, feeling her own eyes well up at the sight of Blake letting go with her, but she doesn’t allow them to fall to her cheeks. This moment is about him.

It’s intense, the way he doesn’t break eye contact, but it’s also incredibly validating. He’s not running from her, he’s not even shielding his pain from her, instead he’s sharing it. She takes a deep breath, her hand squeezing his shoulder. They don’t speak any words, but Blake’s body stutters just a little beneath her touch. It’s seconds later when he hangs his head, finally breaking their gaze and letting a few tears fall that she _can’t_ see. He’s not making any sounds, and she can only describe the moment as devastation.

In this moment, it appears it’s finally hitting him. All the betrayals, all the time wasted, all the sadness he’s been harbouring for so many years. It all comes out right here, and she wishes she could do more than squeeze his shoulder in support. He’s falling apart quietly and she doesn’t have a clue about how to mend him back together.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, looking back up at her.

“Please don’t apologize to me, Blake.”

She wants to say more, but the way he’s looking at her makes her reconsider. She’s been looked at plenty of times in her life, but never has she seen such genuine admiration and regret. She’s too scared to ask about the latter.

“I didn’t mean to break on ya…again.” He chuckles, trying to mask some of the pain that’s still pooling in his eyes and holding his body hostage.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that.” Her voice is soft, but determined. She wants to be that person who Blake feels completely safe to be himself with. She never wants the fake version, or the overly polished one.

“I’m not pretending.” He replies equally as soft, smiling gently and her heart flutters at the sight; seeing him smile despite his current heartbreak only adds to her infatuation. “I’m afraid I can’t even try to pretend when it comes to you.”

“Good.” She whispers, her own emotions coming out to play.

“Do you still want to write today?”

She hums. “Do you? Tell me what you need.”

“Remember during that first day we met, when you danced for me? Could use me some of that right now.”

The seriousness in which he said it contradicts the mischievous smile on his face, and she burst out laughing. The way he manages to turn the tide around has her smiling like an idiot, but she realizes what he’s doing and she thinks she can provide what he’s looking for—distraction.

“You’re an idiot.” She smiles, pushing herself off the couch. “I have a better idea though.”

His brows raise. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Instead of just dancing for you, why don’t I _teach_ you my moves?”

“I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances.”

Blake snorts. “Not me.”

“You are now.” She shuts down his weak arguments, holding her hands out for him. “Come on, get your big butt off that couch and dance with me.”

Blake groans when he reaches for her hands and lets her pull him up.

“We don’t even have music.” He whines.

“Don’t worry, I already thought of it.” She shoots him a proud smile, chuckling when realization dawns on him that he’s not getting out of this one.

She reaches for her phone in her purse, searching for the right song to teach Blake to. She settles for a reggae song that he definitely won’t know, wanting to push him in every way possible. The music starts playing and it takes Blake less than a second to burst out laughing.

Mission completed.

“Oh we’re doing _this_ type of dancing?”

She shakes her head, walking around him and placing her hands on his hips. She tries to ignore how being this close to him has her mind spiralling dangerously, and instead focuses on the task at hand.

“We’re just moving.” She corrects him, gripping him a bit tighter. “Blake?”

“Yes?”

“You gotta move.”

Her hands still hold on to his stiff hips, Blake’s chuckle filling the music-filled air.

“You’re really special, Gwen. I don’t just do this for anyone.”

“Oh hush and move your hips.”

Another laugh leaves his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

She bites back a chuckle when he moves his hips dramatically, causing her to have to regroup. She takes a hold of his hips again, trying to sway them more rhythmically, but Blake purposely works against the strength of her small hands.

“Blake.” She giggles, realizing she’s not getting anywhere with him like this.

“What? I’m moving.”

His voice reveals he knows exactly what he’s doing and she figures two can play this game. She lets go of his hips and steps in front of him, swaying melodically to the music, revelling in the way his eyes light up at the sight.

She takes the liberty of intensifying her movements, letting her hips sway while her hands tangle seductively in her hair. Blake’s gasp is more visibly than audible, and she cocks her head.

“A problem?”

He shakes his head in a bit of disbelief, his smile a permanent thing now.

“You want me to do _that_?”

She shrugs. “I would like to see you try.”

It’s her turn to gasp when he does exactly that, her movements faltering due to her laughter. She doubles over when he repeats the motion, his lips pursing for good measure.

“All jokes aside, I knew your hips weren’t as stiff as you were trying to make me believe.”

His chuckle fills her heart with joy, the moment feeling much lighter than neither of them could’ve imagined at the beginning of the day. His hand is determined in the way it tugs on hers, smiling when she’s helpless to do anything but fall gently against his chest.

“I was giving you a compliment.” She says, looking up at him surprised.

Blake nods. “I know. Dance with me.”

Normally, she would’ve drawn the line here. But everything is different now, and Blake seems to light up at what they’re doing, which is the only motive she had in the first place. She allows his arms to slide across her lower back, her own hands sliding around his neck.

“This is not really slow dance material.” She chuckles, realizing he’s swaying them gently to the chill but up-tempo beat.

“So show me how it’s done.” Blake challenges, looking down at her. “Teach me.”

She shouldn’t be surprised at the way he turns the tables on her, using her earlier confidence to challenge _her_ now. She’s not one to back down though, if he wants a challenge, she’s ready to provide it.

She turns herself around in his grasp, pushing her back against his chest. She beckons for his arms to hold on to her waist, her own hands sliding up his shoulder. She moves her hips in gentle rotation, looking up at him sideways to catch his eye.

“See, there’s not much to it. Just move with me.”

Blake does as told, keeping a steady hold on her while attempting to softly mirror her movements, moving back when she gyrates backwards, and circling forward when she does the opposite. She can tell he’s trying to be respectful, while also struggling with the intimacy of it all. It’s something she relates to.

His hands suddenly get more confident as they slide up her slim waist, lingering against her ribcage. She sucks in a breath she hopes he didn’t feel, but makes sure she never loses composure against him. She decides to turn around again, her hands now on his hips as she continues to move in a rather seductive matter. She blames it on the choice of song, more than on the moment itself, but she can’t get away with that lie to herself.

She can see the way Blake enjoys it though. She eases some of the guilt she feels at being so blatant about her attraction for him, with the gratitude that seems to come off him in waves. He needed something else to think about, besides his dying relationship. There’s no denying that his admiration for her runs deep, and no matter how great, he’ll always be a man; she knows the best ways to distract them.

“I’m starting to feel like maybe you got into the wrong profession.” He drawls lowly. “You’re a great dancer.”

She laughs. “You just say that because you’re not. You don’t have a lot to compare it to.”

“Ouch.” He grabs his heart over dramatically, before grinning down at her. “Are you ever gonna let me just compliment you?”

“Stick around long enough and I just might.”

She didn’t intend for the sentence to be that deep, but she feels the repercussions of her words immediately. She’s not necessarily upset about it; she _does_ want Blake in her life for as long as possible. She _does_ actually believe she can let him in a way she’s never allowed anyone else, if only he decides to stick around.

It’s not what she meant to say, but she means it regardless.

She expected the slight stutter in his step at her words, but she didn’t expect the way his hands pulled her even closer against his chest, leaving no room between their bodies. She feels the heat spread from her chest all the way down to her toes, her mouth opening on a small gasp.

“Blake, what— “

Before she can get the sentence out, his lips are on hers.

It’s soft, and tentative, his lips simply brushing against hers and exploring the softness of it all. His hands hold her tightly at her hips, another brush of his lips causing her to seek stability on his chest. Her hand fists the fabric there, before she realizes what they’re doing.

She breaks the gentle kiss, looking at him both shocked and aroused.

She’d been wondering about how it felt to kiss him, and she’s not surprised to find out it’s the best damn thing in the world. The universe seems to be out to get here with the timing though, and she has no choice but to put an end to it.

Blake’s eyes are wide as realization hits him too, his hands suddenly loosening but never completely letting go of her waist.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, closing his eyes before looking up. “I don’t…I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.” She says in return, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. “I just don’t think it’s the right time, you know? Considering…”

“Yeah.” Blake cuts in, letting go of her hips finally.

She takes the physical freedom to take a few steps back, smoothing over the fabric of her shirt.

“You just went through a break up.” She whispers.

“I know.”

“You need time to process that.”

“Gwen, I know.”

She looks at him, both their gazes expressing great confusion.

It’s weird and awkward between them suddenly, and she hates it. She tears her gaze away from him, balancing awkwardly on the ball of her feet.

“We should probably call it a night.” She murmurs, regretting the words immediately.

Blake’s eyes burn a hole through her, his gaze always intense, but right now it’s damn near excruciating.

“I don’t regret it, Gwen. I wanted— “

“No.” She shakes her head ferociously, holding her hand up. “You’re emotional and you’re trying to make sense of things, but this is not the way.”

He steps a little closer to her again, reaching for her hand and softly rubbing his thumb across the top of it.

“I should have waited, Gwen. I’m sorry.”

She nods, trying to smile past the confusion she’s feeling.

“Like I said, you don’t have to be sorry. I just think we need to take the night off, be on our own for a second.”

She can see him flinch a little at her words, being alone the one thing he’s gotten quite acquainted with since Miranda moved out.

“Whatever you need.” Comes his sincere reply.

“That’s what I need.”

Blake nods. “Okay.”

She feels like it’s her turn to apologize, but she can’t get the words to pass her lips. She wants to just say fuck it and claim his lips again, get even more familiar with the way his lips feel on hers, but she knows now is not the time. She knows she shouldn’t even have let it get this far in the first place.

She wants Blake, but not like this. She doesn’t want him to claim her in an emotional outburst after he called his engagement off. She doesn’t want to be the girl he turns to when everyone else in his life seems to have left.

Her feet feel heavy as she drags them away from him, her hand shaking slightly when she reaches for her purse. She takes another look at Blake, who’s still standing where she left him, his hand sliding through his hair once.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

She tries to make the words sound as normal as possible, hoping to convey that they’re still good, that everything isn’t ruined.

Blake nods.

“Whatever you need. I mean that.”

She smiles a bit pained, turning around before he can see the tears growing in her eyes.

*

Her head lowers into the pillow behind her, the couch holding both her legs up as she stretches out fully. She feels the tension in her joints come to a boiling point, hearing some of them crack with the force of her arching. Her phone starts buzzing as she’s going through a few emails, her nail stilling on the glass screen. Blake’s name lights up on her display, her finger swiping to accept before she knows she’s doing it.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

His voice is low and soft, the excitement in which he usually calls her isn’t there, but she’s happy enough to be hearing from him at all. Ever since what happened earlier this afternoon, she’s been scared he’d withdraw, keep to himself. She’s thankful that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“You’re not.” She muses gently, sliding her feet across the couch cushion. “I was just answering some emails.”

“Ah, any important ones?”

She bites her lip, letting a few seconds of silence linger between them. “Did you call me to ask me about my emails?”

“No, I didn’t.” Blake sighs, and she can hear the way he’s shifting in his chair. “I just wanted to apologize again, for earlier. It was totally inappropriate and unprofessional, and I shouldn’t have— “

“If you tell me it was a mistake I might get angry at you.”

She’s never been one to be afraid of exposing her feelings, but the statement stutters a little when it leaves her lips. The timing of his advances was off, and there’s still so much to get to before they can even think about going there, but the thought of him considering her a mistake hurts more than anything else.

“It wasn’t.” Blake admits carefully. “But I should’ve waited. I made you feel awkward and you were just trying to be there for me. I’m sorry about that.”

She smiles softly, letting his voice relax her despite the subject of the conversation.

“Apology accepted. How are you feeling about everything?”

Blake sigh is heavy. “You have time?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He chuckles. “My label called tonight. Said they have a plan I’m probably gonna hate, but I don’t have much of a choice.”

Gwen’s brows knit, her hand squeezing the arm of the couch.

“What plan?”

“Miranda and I have an award show performance lined up for the duet. They want us to hold off on announcing the split, until _after_ we’ve done that.” Blake’s voice sounds rough, much like the feelings coursing through her own body. “The song is doing good so far, and they think the break up news would hurt me worse than it’d hurt her.”

“So?” Gwen asks stunned, a harsh breath leaving her mouth. “Some things are more important than your career, Blake. You can finally live your truth. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Gwen, don’t you think I’ve tried talking them out of this? I hate this just as much as you do.”

Gwen gnaws on her bottom lip, shaking her head. “They can’t make you do this.”

“They made it very clear that they can.”

“What if you say no?”

“Then they’ll cut back on the support on the next single. Not to mention the flack I’d get from Miranda. I just want this to be over as soon as possible, if this is what it takes to get her off my back….”

“So you’re doing this for her?”

It’s the first thing that pops into her head to say, the first logical question that makes sense. She never meant for things to get this complicated, she always wanted her and Blake to just _be_. She never meant for their hearts to get this tangled, because now every decision—business or not—felt like something that could jeopardize _them_.

“I’m doing this partially to get rid of her, yes.”

She considers fighting him more on this, but Blake doesn’t sound like he’s asking for her opinion, or approval. If anything, he’s seeking support. She swallows roughly, forcing every thought on the tip of her tongue to stay there.

“After this, you’ll only release songs you want, do performance you stand behind. I’m telling you Blake, things are about to get real good.”

Blake huffs. “It sure would be about time.”

“It’s gonna happen. Don’t you even have a little bit of trust in me?”

“You’re about the only thing in this world I trust at this point.”

The words are spoken fast, but the delivery feels like it happens in slow motion. Silence takes over the line again and none of them speak for a moment. She struggles with how to feel about his admission; her heart and mind at terrible odds. She recognizes the warm feeling spreading through her chest, though. That feeling that reminds her of everything she wants to hold on to, everything she’s scared of losing.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Blake.”

She hears his soft laugh, the one that tells her he’s grateful. She wishes like hell she was there to see it, instead of having to settle for just the sound.

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly, her hand squeezing the phone just a bit tighter against the shell of her ear. “That means a lot to me.”

“Can I be honest with you though?”

“Of course.”

“I hate the song.”

His loud belly laugh fills her ear, her own smile inevitable.

“You little shit.”

“But I love your voice.”

_I love you_, is what she refrains from saying.

“I guess I’ll settle for that.” Blake smiles, his voice holding that hint of excitement again, the one she missed hearing so much.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

The playfulness slowly seeps out of her voice, only genuine hope being heard.

“Please?”

Now it’s her turn to chuckle. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Damn straight, darlin’.”


	10. I Need Your Love But I Break Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this chapter. Everything will work out in time, but like most of my stories, there's a bit of turmoil before they get there.

He doesn’t know whether the thick air in the room is due to his reluctance to being here, or an actual lack of ventilation, but he struggles catching his breath as soon as he enters. He looks over to his right, sighing deeply when he realizes he’s about to get no help. It’s dawned on him that he has no right to ask her for anything else, as she’s already being pushed beyond her limits, just by being here. He wishes he could be more of a pillar to her, but all his strength seems to be focused on getting himself through the day.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

She’s looking at him with a hint of amusement, but he’s unable to retort that with any of his own. He shakes his head, sighing loudly.

“This is ridiculous. You know, I should’ve fired Brandon the minute he told me he wasn’t fighting this decision.”

He knows Gwen will come up with something to eject that and he’s coming to rely on her everlasting confidence and positivity. She pats his upper arm, before giving a soft squeeze to his bicep.

“It’s just business, and he’s right. She shouldn’t be the only one profiting from this song, and you know she would’ve if you said no to this.”

“Actually, I—” Blake’s attempt to dispute her statement is immediately shot down.

“You know how it goes; the public loves a juicy story. A love story turned sour is exactly what the public feeds off, it’s fucked up but true. They would hear the polished version of the story and pick her side in a heartbeat—it’s just how it works.”

“She cheated.” Blake whispers, looking at her in disbelief.

“She’s also a woman.” Gwen points out, her words unwavering. “And we’ve been getting the short end of the stick for decades and people are tired of it. Women are tired of it. They’re going to pick her side, and the media knows to do the same if they want any attraction. It doesn’t matter what story you put out there, they will support her for the sole reason that you left her.”

Blake shakes his head, loving and hating her confidence at the same time.

“So what? I just pretend to still be in love with her while we perform this song in front of a live audience? I just pretend like she didn’t spread her legs for my best friend, until the damn song dies down?”

“That’s exactly what you do.” Gwen agrees, causing his blood to nearly boil. “And not until the song dies down, your label only demanded _one_ major performance.”

“One performance too many.”

Gwen sighs. “I know it’s not ideal…”

“Not ideal? _Gwen_…” His voice is subdued, the desperation seeping off him in waves. “It’s insane. I feel like I’m being whored out for the sole purpose of selling a few copies.”

She turns into him, stepping in front of him so he can’t look past her. His eyes stare down at her, his hands itching to hold on to her.

“See it as not wanting to let your hard work go to waste. You worked hard for this song, and you’re giving it one last effort to make sure it does well.”

He wishes he could see it from that point of view, but his whole body seems to be in protest mode. He wonders if Gwen believes in her own words, since she’s showed her own discomfort from the moment the plan was revealed. She must sense the hesitance in his demeanour, because she pushes it some more.

“It’s only one performance, Blake. One final rehearsal, and then the real thing tonight. After that, you’ll be done with her for good.”

“The public will still think we’re together after tonight.”

He watches as something threatens to crack her confident demeanour, but she doesn’t allow it to happen. She straightens her back, before forcing a small smile onto her lips.

“Two weeks, right? That’s what your label said.”

Blake nods. “I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait for this breakup to hit the newsstands.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Gwen smiles, the first genuine one of the day spilling off her pretty mouth.

He wants more time to bask in the beauty of it, but unfortunately he’s not granted any.

The same voice that used to give him butterflies, now only sends shivers of his spine, his body tensing at the arrival of his ex-girlfriend. He expects Gwen to step away from him, but she stays right where she is; in front of him and in his personal space.

He has to take a small step back, just to look over to where Miranda is standing. She doesn’t seem too thrilled to be here either, but it could also be her disapproval of Gwen being present. He knew it would probably cause some bitterness, but he couldn’t get himself to care. If he had to be here, he needed Gwen by his side. If Miranda turned out to hate that, he’d count that as a small bonus.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She says adamantly, giving him one last look before walking towards the rehearsal space.

Blake shoots Gwen one last glance, secretly still hoping she’ll talk him out of this.

“She’s right. You don’t want to drag this out.”

His feet feel like they’re dragging across the floor, but he manages at getting himself on the vacated stage. He’s grateful for music being there to guide him through, his body still feeling strangely comfortable there, regardless of who’s standing next to him. He waits for his cue as the lights are being properly set up, a few ‘_checks_’ being spoken into the microphones before being handed to them.

“I’m glad you’re doing this.” Miranda says softly, as he can feel the burn of her stare on his skin.

He sighs roughly. “I’m not doing it for you.”

“I know.” She answers shortly, taking a small step closer to him. “The song is good; it deserves a real shot.”

He finally decides to look at her, his heart beating faster automatically. Not because of his love for her anymore, but the complete opposite; he’s disgusted. Disgusted with her for putting them in this position, and disgusted with himself for going along with it.

“Let’s just sing the damn song and get out of here.”

He revels in the offended look on her face, before looking out in the venue. The first time he got invited to the Country Music Awards had been the highlight of his career. It felt like his hard work had finally paid off. He remembers how excited he and Brandon were before hitting the red carpet, and he remembers exactly nothing about the night when they celebrated. Today, that same show is the reason for his unsteady legs and bitter feeling pressing against his chest. He doesn’t want to be here.

He locks eyes with Gwen, who took it upon herself to stand side stage. She looks at him promising, and he still can’t believe he got her to come with him. He’s always known she’s stronger than him in many ways, now she’s proving to also be more selfless.

“When you’re done making googly eyes with your new girlfriend, you think we can start the song?” Miranda’s voice is what breaks their gaze, his eyes nearly spewing fire when he looks back at her.

“You have some nerve acting jealous after— “

“—I get it, I screwed up. I also gave you this awesome song that has shot up your credibility points by a thousand. On which of the two do you want to focus right now?”

The exchange feels so familiar, it breaks his heart a little more. She’d always felt like the superior artist in the relationship, and she never let him forget. He accepts the microphone when it’s being pressed in his hands, shooting Gwen one last look before he picks up the guitar. He tries to revel in the beauty of playing the instrument, but as soon as the first chords leave his fingertips, everything feels off.

He can barely make eye contact with Miranda, and every step she takes towards him, makes him take another one back. He knows he isn’t fooling anyone with this performance, but he can’t get himself to truly connect. There’s a weird feeling that creeps up on him when he realizes how easy it seems to be for his ex-fiancée. The music continues, and Blake internally scolds himself when he fumbles a lyric. Miranda shoots him an annoyed look, but he just keeps focusing on at least getting the chords right, taking a deep breath in before approaching the bridge.

The next part is mostly harmonies and he anticipates the moment where Miranda takes another step closer to him and puts her hand on his arm. He forces his gaze up to her, his jaw feeling tense as he fakes at a smile. He’s never considered himself a great actor, but today he appears to be horrible. He gets through the last thirty seconds of the song, putting the guitar down the minute the song fades out.

Miranda’s sigh is loud and Blake whips around angrily.

“What?” He asks loudly. “Tell me, what is the problem _this_ time?”

“How about the fact that you can’t even pretend to be excited about this song? These are your words too, these are your feelings!”

“Were.” He corrects, smiling bitterly. “These _were_ my feelings.”

She takes another step forward and this time he doesn’t cower back. He hates how his chest still constricts at having her this close, her face so close he can feel her breath when she speaks.

“I don’t care. But tonight, for the sake of this song, you better pretend like they still are.”

*

She can’t believe she’s lasted as long as she had. The whole thing had been weird; from Blake asking her to come with him, to actually seeing him and Miranda rehearse. She tried to be okay with this plan, especially since Blake had enough trouble sticking to it, as it is. She’s succeeded at getting him here at least, but there was a weird tingle of joy that spread through her as she realized he didn’t want to keep appearances up with his ex any longer.

She tried to comfort him after he came off stage, ranting about how wrong it had felt. She can’t imagine having to fake something with someone who’s hurt him that badly, and if she had the power to make any effective change on his label’s decision, she would’ve. Instead, all she can do is be there for him the best she can. Like she promised.

_We’ll deal with it together._

She’d meant the words then, and she continues to mean them now. Even when Blake rushes past her in one sudden movement.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“I need some air.”

She struggles to keep up with his steady strides, nearly out of breath when she reaches the exit. His back leans against the wall, his large inhalations of air the only sounds he makes.

“Blake.”

“I hate this.” He scoffs, slamming his palm against the wall behind him. “This isn’t right.”

She bites her lip, unable to dispute the statement.

“You’re doing what needs to be done.” She whispers, hating how she can’t make the words sound believable at all.

“Am I?” His head perks up, and she’s surprised to see anger directed at _her_ now. “Cause from where I’m standing, I’m doing what the label thinks needs to be done, what _you_ think needs to be done.”

Her eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“Why are you pushing for this, Gwen? How could this possibly help you in any way? Tell me, I’m dying to know.”

Her mouth opens in both shock and mockery, her tongue pushing past her teeth.

“You’re an ass. I’m not pushing for anything, I’m trying to help you through this. I’m trying to help you see the positive in this so it’s easier for _you_. I’m trying to be okay with this ridiculous plan for my own peace of mind. I get that you’re angry, I would be too, but I’ll be damned if I let you take it out on me.”

Blake scoffs, leaning his head back against the wall.

“You should’ve talked me out of this.” He muses, avoiding her gaze.

“And why’s that?” She asks angrily, placing one hand on the wall next to her, while keeping her eyes on him. “Is that because I’m here to make you feel better about yourself? Am I here to babysit you, make sure you don’t make the wrong decisions? Because I sure as hell don’t remember singing up for any of that.”

“You’re my friend!” He yells, his volume shocking them both. “Now Brandon, I can see why that’s business. But you…”

“You’re upset.” She states calmly, not allowing him to get the best of her. “You’re upset because you thought you had more power, but at the end of the day you’re still put in a position by your label you can’t seem to get out of. You’re upset because you’ve convinced yourself your anger towards Miranda would protect you, but in reality, she can still get under your skin like no one else. But most importantly, your ego is hurt because you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle this. You thought I’d be falling apart, begging you not to do this. But guess what, I’m a big girl, Blake. I can handle myself just fine.”

She can see his heart stumble at her words, his face constricting.

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“It must be in the air today.”

Blake huffs in annoyance, shaking his head.

“I’m not apologizing for being upset with you.”

Another chuckle leaves her lips, her mind suddenly made up.

“Good. That makes this a whole lot easier.” She searches her purse for her car keys, before turning her back on him swiftly.

“Where are you going?”

“The studio.”

Blake gasp is loud. “Now?”

She turns around once more. “You’re upset with me? Fine. Than you can figure this out on your own. I’m not gonna be here to be disrespected by you, Blake.”

“You’re leaving?”

Her words don’t seem to register as fast as they usually would, and she’d feel bad for him if she didn’t have such anger coursing through her veins.

“You have my number. You can call me whenever you’re done having your moment. Whether that’s before or after the performance, that’s up to you.”

She doesn’t grant him the proper time to react, for she’s already bolting to her car. She feels tears burn at the back of her eyes as she lowers herself in the driver’s seat. Part of her wishes Blake had called after her, but she understands why he didn’t.

*

The studio only serves as a reminder of all the good times she’s had with Blake, and suddenly the decision to come here seems less clear. She tries at writing a few lines, but ends up with her head scrunched over her knees, hands in her hair. She knows Blake’s anger wasn’t actually meant for her, but it still hurt to be on the receiving end of it when all she’s done is trying to be there for him. No matter what, Miranda always seems to have the upper hand in whatever she and Blake are trying to build.

Writing seems impossible, as she can't let her mind focus on anything else but the strange course of events today. She’s halfway ready to just get the hell out of here and go home, when the room lights up and the door closes with a thud.

She looks up in surprise, her mouth opening on a gasp when she sees Blake approaching. He’s already dressed in what she assumes are his performance clothes; his white button up and black vest giving him a formal, yet laid back look. His curls are a bit more tamed than usual, but she still feels the urge to run her fingers through them.

“What are you doing here?” She gasps, standing up from the couch immediately.

“Why do you think?”

His answer is simple and she’s a bit dumbfounded when she realizes he’s not about to elaborate.

“Blake, your performance is in…” She looks down at her phone to check the time, before finding his gaze again. “A little less than two hours.”

“I’ll be back on time.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She retorts.

He steps closer to her, his demeanour much more confident than it was when she left him earlier. Some of the worst anger seems to have left him, but there’s still a hostility there that she isn’t used to from him.

“You promised you’d be there for me today.”

She hears genuine hurt in his voice, her head lowering at the sound. She takes a deep breath before regaining composure, her hands fisting at her sides.

“You treated me like shit.”

Blake swallows, his eyes intensely on her face. “So your answer is to run? Sounds familiar.”

Her head snaps up to his, her breathing shallow.

“You have some nerve.” She doesn’t even realize she’s stepping closer to him, until he’s basically towering over her. “You know _nothing_ about me.”

“You know that’s not true.” His voice is so calm, it only infuriates her more.

“If you’re here to insult me some more, you need to go. You have a more important place to be, and it’s not here.”

“I’m exactly where I need to be.”

She looks at him, stunned. “How can you say that?”

“I’m here because I _need_ to be, Gwen. I’m here for you.”

“Why?” She asks again, taking a step backwards as she tries to create some distance.

He catches her gaze again and clings to it, his eyes darkening. She feels her body react to his intense staring, almost feeling scrutinized by the way he seizes her up.

“If I have to sing that damn song with her tonight, if I have to lie and give the people a fake version of myself, I’m gonna make damn sure my life off stage _is_ the truth.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” She lies. “But whatever it is, it’s wrong.”

She makes a move to push past him then, not intending on having this conversation any longer. He reaches out quickly, grabbing her upper arm and pushing her back against the nearest wall.

“Why don’t we just start being completely honest with each other?”

She lets him hold her against the wall for a few moments before speaking.

“It’s fine, I’m over it.” She rasps, almost out of breath. “You need to go back there, get ready for your performance. Focus on what’s _really_ important.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everything else goes quiet. She meant it in defence of them both; the best way for them to get through this was to not put too much emphasis on what they have, and focus it all on what he needs to have with his ex in an hour and a half. She didn’t realize how the words would sound after being spoken out loud though, and she immediately wishes she could retract them.

His hand that’s still holding her against the wall loosens just a little bit, a look of disbelieve on his features. Seconds tick over as she witnesses something flicker in his eyes. It’s a flicker she doesn’t recognize and it makes her nervous as hell. His eyes dart down to her lips and she swallows roughly.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

One of her hands moves back towards the wall, searching for stability as she stands weakly before him. There’s nothing she wants more than to reach up and capture his lips, but she can’t even begin to think about the exceptionally horrible timing.

“I can’t.”

“Kiss me, Gwen.” He repeats, leaning in dangerously close. “No cameras, no agenda, just your mouth on mine.”

Her hear slams against her chest, the nerves raging through her. She knows he’s looking for something real, he wants to build on the little vessel of hope they’ve created for themselves. She’s more realistic though, at least her mind is. They can’t be anything as long as he still has to pretend to be someone else. She can’t be part of something so uncertain.

When she doesn’t answer, he lowers his mouth to hers himself, letting his bottom lip drag across hers. She whispers his name in small protest, closing her eyes while feeling the self-control and restraint leaving her body little by little.

She makes another move to leave his grasp, but he only moves in closer. She fruitlessly pushes against the broad of his chest, but his hands easily circle her wrist and pin them gently on the wall behind her. His entire body moves in, a leg between hers, his chest against her breasts and his lips dipping to her neck.

She makes a small noise as his lips brush the skin of her neck, goosebumps breaking out over her body. His lips trail up the base of her ear, and then he speaks again.

“Lie to me.” He whispers as she holds her breath. “Lie to me and tell me you don’t want this.”

Her nipples harden underneath his confident touches, and she knows she has a slim chance of hiding her body’s reaction to him. A big part of her wants to tell him to go to hell, that he has no right to so blatantly man handle her, but dear god that would mean he’d let her go. She feels powerless to her own desires, pathetic at her lack of self-control. The leg between hers wedges in a little further, causing her legs to spread further apart.

“Blake!” She gasps, trying to shock him out of it.

“Tell me.” He whispers, his mouth tracing her jaw line. “Tell me to let you go.”

She feels the heat in her cheeks and between her legs, and she can barely breathe at this point, let alone speak. She thinks of how hard it would be to have him like this now, and have to see him with _her_ later. She thinks of every single complication this would bring, but she still can’t tell him to let go.

“This will make everything harder.” She whispers hoarsely, moving her wrist against his grip but not getting very far with it.

He brushes his mouth over her lips again, and without warning pushes his thigh up between her legs. She makes a noise, a vocal reaction that he responds to by brushing his mouth over hers again, hovering this time. He rocks his lower half against her, smirking when a moan escapes her, and wasting no time taking advantage of her open mouth. His lips crash over hers as he forces his tongue into her mouth. He’s confident and hard against her, making her both nervous and beyond turned on.

She decides in that moment she won’t encourage him. She won’t slide her tongue into his mouth to meet his, or react to his touches. But she won’t stop him either.

When she feels his hands letting go of her wrist, a pang of disappointment hits. Maybe he’s finally coming to his senses and realizes he’s in the middle of a PR nightmare. Maybe he’s realizing that they’re still in the studio, a place where people will come looking for them first. She gets her answer when he uses one free hand to hold her jaw, as he continues to attack her mouth and the other one slides down her collarbone. He reaches her breast, cupping her through the fabric of her dress. She swallows down a moan when he thumbs her erect nipple through the thin material.

He’s hard against her hip and she’s trying to figure out if this is actually going to happen. If she’ll _let_ it happen.

She doesn’t have much more time to think, before his hand skims beneath her skirt, pressing down between her legs and cupping her against the satin of her panties. She gaps against his mouth, feeling two fingers circle against her lips. She knows he can feel the dampness already, and she’s embarrassed to be enjoying his asshole moves tonight. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have put up with it.

Without warning, he slips his hands inside her panties and slides two fingers between her wetness. She exhales sharply at the feeling, her lips stuttering against his. He moves her legs further apart with his knee, sinking his fingers determinedly inside her. She makes a sharp noise at the contact while her head lolls back against the wall, as she stretches to accommodate him. She’s torn between wanting to moan his name but not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He keeps a steady rhythm, pushing his hardness into her hip with each thrust. It makes her think about the real possibilities; how far could actually take this. The thought has her finally giving in some, her hand flying to his bicep. His mouth keeps nibbling at her lips before smoothing it over with a deep kiss. That plus the forceful thrusting of his fingers inside of her, have waves of pleasure coursing through her.

She’s close and she knows he can tell by the way her breathing is getting heavier. He pulls out all the sudden, running his wet fingers across her clit before plunging back inside her. She yells into his mouth, too aroused to do anything when he yanks her panties down her thighs and reaches for his belt buckle.

Her heart thumps in her chest as her underwear hits the studio floor, and she steps out of them. He pulls his pants down just enough, lifting her against the wall and moving himself between her thighs. His hands on her hips feel like the only two anchors that keep her down to Earth, as she reminds herself to breath. He looks at her with a look that expresses a final chance at putting a stop to this altogether, but he never asks. He moves forward then, sinking his erection into her in one deep thrust.

“_Fuck_.” He breathes into her ear, as if it’s the only way he can describe it. She agrees.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she finally allows her legs to move further apart as she hooks her legs around his waist. His hands hold her hips as he starts a rhythm, gentle for the first few thrust and then picking up speed. She feels every inch of him slide into her and retract. A motion he repeats so many times, she can't help the begging and pleading in his arms that follow.

She’s still angry at him for everything. Even for this, _especially_ for this, but the pleasure that’s exploding through her makes her momentarily forget about it all. He is fucking her. That’s all this is; a good hard fuck against the studio wall. He’s pissed at her too; he’s horny and he’s tired of fighting what he’s wanted all along. He’s doing everything but spinning her around and fucking her from behind.

He shifts slightly, the angle meant to rub against her clit when he enters her. Her fingernails dig into the back of his neck, her head crashing back against the wall. He uses her open mouth to kiss her hard and rushed. He continues to slam her against the wall until her thighs start trembling and her mouth tears away from his.

“Oh my god.”

He bucks against her twice more, triggering her orgasm. Her walls clench around him and he lets go, spilling himself inside of her. He stops thrusting and just holds her against the wall, as they both ride out their highs. He’s breathing loudly in her ear, holding her up as her body is still experiencing the effects of her orgasm.

She can barely breath, let alone register what just happened. When his head drops forward into the crook of her neck, she’s brought back to reality. She starts trying to unhook her ankles from his waist and attempt to slide downward, but he keeps her firmly in place. She tries again, this time with more vigor and manages to slip down the wall and reluctantly have him pull out of her.

She grimaces at the sudden discomfort and wobbles a little on her feet. Without looking him in the eye, she dips down and scoops up her underwear. As she pulls herself back up against the wall, she hears him zipping up his pants. She slips her feet more securely into her heels again, before he steps forward to touch her again.

She dodges his advances, side stepping him.

“Gwen…”

She can’t look him in the eye. She’s not even sure if she can face _herself_ right now. She thought that having Blake be single would get rid of all complications, but in reality, it just gave them a million more. She doesn’t want to think about how hurt he sounded when he just called out for her. She doesn’t want to think about how cheap this frantic fuck made her feel, either.

She takes all the ache and anguish and decides to deal with it on her own. She grabs her purse from the small couch without so much as a look his way, not uttering a single word as she walks out into the cold evening air.


	11. What I Wouldn't Give

Watching her spin around on the sidewalk with anguish in her eyes, tears at his insides. He lost control with her, and now he’s about to face the consequences of that. No fibre in his being is ready to part ways with the one person who still mattered in his life.  
  
“Gwen, please wait a second.”   
  
His voice sounds breathy from running after her down the parking lot, trying to get to her before she manages to get to her car. The way she swiftly turns around to face him, has him almost staggering back. The only reason he doesn’t, is because he wants her to truly see what this whole thing has done to him too.   
  
“I don’t want to talk, and I can’t think of anything you have to say that I would like to hear.”  
  
“Just…. come with me.” He states softly, trying not to cower at the anger in her eyes. “Come with me to the show tonight, and let’s talk afterwards. I don’t want to end things here.”  
  
She raises her brows. “Not here, but you’d want to end things later? You want me to stand side stage while you pretend to still be with your ex, hours after fucking me against a wall? No thank you, that’s a hard pass.”  
  
“Gwen...”  
  
“Why did you even come here? How could you possibly have thought that _now_ was the right time to do whatever the hell this was?”  
  
“I didn’t think it through, if that’s what you’re saying. I didn’t know this was gonna happen.”  
  
Gwen’s by far the strongest woman he’s ever met, but right now she looks like the embodiment of startled. Her posture is off, and so is the trembling of her chest as she tries to take in steady breathes.  
  
“What is it with you?” She rasps, her eyes closing for a moment as she lets the words linger.  
  
He takes the moment of quiet to step forward, but as soon she recognizes he’s trying to close distance, her eyes fly open and her finger starts pointing at his chest.  
  
“This whole day you’ve been treating me like I’ve been some sort of fixer. Like I’m supposed to fix your messes, fight your battles, and then when I don’t succeed in making everything easier for you, you lash out and tell me how much I suck at my _job_.”  
  
He wants to say something, but her words punch him hard in the gut, dissolving his words right there on his tongue.   
  
“You wanted me at that rehearsal to feel better about yourself, maybe make her jealous, am I right?” There’s a bit of mockery in her voice, her tongue pushing past her teeth while cocking her head, looking at him sideways. “Just like a few moments ago, when you had me pressed up against that wall; I was once again there to make _you_ feel better.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong. Gwen, I would never use you like that.”  
  
“That’s all you do!” She screams, her own anger seemingly startling her too. She takes a few steps back as she tries to compose herself, her words still dripping venom when she speaks. “You use me. You use me for songs, you use me to make yourself feel better, and now you use me to get some ass, since the one you _really_ want took off her ring.”  
  
“I use you for songs?”   
  
Somewhere during her rampage, her words started to feel like outside noise, the only part that truly resonated being the one about their songs; the art that was created purely off their connection. Something that felt too sacred to taint, and she managed to reduce it to nothing in a matter of seconds.  
  
“I shouldn’t have brought that up, but you-” She begins to backtrack, but Blake’s having none of it. “No, tell me. Don’t start biting your tongue now.”  
  
“I’m not this girl. If you think I’m going to fall at your feet cause your single now, or if you feel like you’re entitled to me just because I like you, you’re sadly mistaken. I don’t do this.”  
  
“What happened in there wasn’t just my fault.”   
  
He shakes his head, feeling his own anger rising.  
  
“I had a moment of weakness.” She says steadily, her finger wiping chastely underneath her eyes to whisk away the only tear she couldn’t fight back. “I told you it was going to complicate everything. I told you it was gonna end bad, but you didn’t care.”  
  
Anger finally reaches a boiling point. “I needed you!”  
  
She nods.  
  
“Exactly. You needed me.”  
  
“What’s so wrong about that?”  
  
She walks closer to him this time, her face still ridden with emotion.   
  
“What about what _I_ need?”  
  
He wishes he could reach out for her hand, he wishes he could wrap his arms around her and kiss her forehead, promise her that everything’s fine, even when it so clearly isn’t.  
  
“I care about you more than you’ll ever know.” He admits softly, his eyes holding her gaze. “This wasn’t just something that came out of the blue, Gwen. I like you.”  
  
“It should never have happened.”

Blake chuckles bitterly. “So that’s it? You’re just going to deny everything that we have?”  
  
“_We_ don’t have anything, Blake. _You_ have things; _you_ have a performance to give in about an hour. _You_ have a public image to uphold. _You_ have more important places to be—and before you tell me that’s not true, I’m gonna remind you that I just don’t care.”  
  
“I can’t go up there.” He drawls lowly. “Not like this.”  
  
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that. You’re gonna have to.”  
  
He’s willing to try one more time, not caring about his pride in this moment. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t come here for _this_. His desperate attempt at grasping for something real, had led him to hurt the one person who provided him that.   
  
“Come with me.”  
  
She looks up at him again, and he can feel her thinking, struggling.  
  
“Go up there and do what you did earlier today, and you’ll be fine. They told you to show up and do the performance, they didn’t tell you how.”  
  
The little piece of advice has barely left her mouth when she turns around for her car, his eyes widening at her sudden retreat.

“Jesus Christ, Gwen.”

“I’m not going with you.” She says, turning around once more, but keeping a safe distance between them. “I can’t help you with this, Blake. I can’t help you with any of it. Not anymore.”  
  
The words are enough to shatter the last bit of control he was holding on to, the floor feeling like it’s being ripped from underneath him in one clean sweep.  
  
“Will you call later?”  
  
He’s not surprised to hear a deafening silence after his question, her face looking like it could break any moment. He knows his mind should be at his performance, he knows he should be hauling his ass back right about now, but he can’t do anything but stand there and wait for her reply. He’s not surprised when it never comes, her back turning to him one last time before getting into her car.  
  
He’s not sure whether he’s upset at her lack of verbal response. Her answer being a non-verbal one leaves the last bit of his sanity intact. 

Just enough to get him through this one performance.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
She must have a dead wish or something, or so she thinks, as she finds herself snuggled up underneath a blanket on the couch. Her television has been on for the last fifty minutes, the exact time this show has been on for. Her mind has been running a mile a minute, her heart skipping every time they mention Blake’s performance. She thought about not watching, and heading straight for the sack, but she couldn’t keep herself from grabbing the remote control and seeing with her own eyes what’s about to happen.   
  
She can still feel the aftermath of what happened between her and Blake physically, the weirdly satisfying, yet completely confrontational ache between her legs is doing nothing to give her some peace of mind. Her whole body feels an even stronger connection to the man she so wishes she could forget.   
  
It’s weird how only two hours ago she had him as close as you could humanly be to someone, and now he’s about to get on stage with his ex-fiancée, playing the part of being happily in love. She wants to throw up at the thought, but she urges herself to relax.   
  
The presenter announces their performance next, and she takes a deep breath as the lights start dimming and the stage expends. The loud cheers coming from the crowd indicates everyone’s excitement about seeing country music’s favorite couple unite for a performance, and it’s a gruesome realization that she could never have that with him.  
  
It’s an appeal that he could only ever have with someone like Miranda, and it’s enough to cause her eyes to water. She hates the PR stunt he’s being somewhat forced into, but going off the crowd’s reactions, she can’t disagree with the business standpoint of it all.   
  
Blake looks completely tidied up; his curls are tamed but still a bit unruly in the best way, his white shirt is completely buttoned up, the black vest looking nicely underneath the soft blue lights shining down upon the stage. The thing that catches her eyes the most, is the smile he’s wearing. If she hadn’t known any better, he looked happy.   
  
She never knew Blake was quite the actor, but she didn’t have a better word for it tonight.   
  
He sounds about as good as he looks, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly, his hand producing equally as beautiful sounds out of the guitar in his hand. She holds her breath when Miranda joins him on stage, her eyes never wavering from Blake. The harmonies are quite beautiful, and she almost misses the way Blake stutters just a little when Miranda stands even closer and slides her hand up his chest.   
  
The crowd is eating the moment up, and she can see the exact moment in which Blake decides to go along with it. His lips curve up just a little bit more, his voice extra smooth as he sings directly into his ex-fiancée’s eyes.   
  
She doesn’t know how he does it; she’s seen his anger the night he found out about her betrayal. She was there to pick him up after he literally bled for this woman on his living room floor, emptying the contents of his stomach thinking about the betrayal he suffered at her hands. Tonight, he seems to let go of it all, in the name of putting on a show. Tonight, he looks like he’s happy to be there, grateful to have her love.   
  
Gwen doesn’t even realize she’s crying, not until the song ends and Blake and Miranda give each other an excessive hug. She figures he must’ve talked to his ex-beforehand, since she didn’t even attempt to go in for a kiss. Gwen’s relief about that is instant; her heart wouldn’t be able to take that much more. If she had to witness him kiss her, mere hours after having been inside _her_, she would’ve thrown the remote control through the screen.   
  
He didn’t kiss her.  
  
She hates the way her body still fills with hope at that. Maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he cared for her in a special way. Maybe what happened earlier tonight wasn’t a sole result of Blake’s heartbreak.   
  
Her heart feels extra heavy after having seen the performance, and she’s finally ready to submit to her covers. She lets the phone ring another time an hour later, not needing to check the caller ID to know who’s calling. It’s a total of five missed calls, all _his_.  
  
The phone calls stop the next day.  
  
She still hadn’t picked up and apparently twenty-four hours was what Blake needed to get tired of trying. She tried filing her days with writing, going out some, whatever she needed to get her mind off the weird state she and Blake had left things in.  
  
It’s the third day of not having spoken to him, that she ends up on Dean’s couch. They’ve been talking a bit throughout the days, and she couldn’t resist after he asked her for the second time to come over. She liked the way he didn’t seem to want to complicate things—he wanted her presence in whatever way she was willing to give it.   
  
It was the type of control she desperately craved.  
  
When he’d cooked a full Italian meal for her and offered to drive her home, she’d made the call that would undoubtedly have consequences in the future. The way she pressed him against the wall had been swift and harsh, his reciprocation nothing short of the same intensity. He’d looked at her in surprise when she started stripping him of his clothes, but he’d wasted no time in getting rid of hers after getting her soft but determined consent.   
  
She’d thought about sneaking out after all was said and done, but she’d never been the girl to have sex and then not stay. She wouldn’t do it to him either. It was about as awkward as she expected the next morning, sitting at his kitchen counter, but luckily Dean was not the one to be short on words.  
  
“If I had known this was about to happen last night, I would’ve made sure I had some proper breakfast for you.”   
  
She smiles up at him, waving her hand to brush it off.  
  
“I’m not really big on breakfast anyways.”  
  
“How can anyone not be big on breakfast?” Dean retorts, walking around the counter to stand next to her, her own hand toying with the rim of her glass of orange juice.   
  
“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite in the morning.”  
  
She feels his hands on her shoulders the next second, gently moving her hair out of the way when he starts kissing the exposed skin in the crook of her neck.   
  
“Hmmm, no appetite for anything?”  
  
She huffs out a breath, using her hand to halt his movements. She can feel him still beneath the hand on the back of his head, his eyes searching for hers.   
  
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, wincing a little at the disappointment she sees pooling in his eyes. “It’s just…I don’t want to use you and I’m not ready for this to become anything too serious.”  
  
Dean nods against the spot between her shoulder and neck, still holding her gaze.  
  
“I’m a big boy, Gwen. I know how this works and I don’t expect you and I to become anything serious just because we slept together. I don’t regret it though…” He places another quick kiss to her shoulder blade, and this time she lets him without protest. “Do you?”  
  
She bites her lip against the tickling sensation his stubble provides against her sensitive skin there, and shakes her head. “I don’t.”  
  
“No strings, no pressure…. I get it, Gwen.” His smile is a genuine one when it reaches her eyes. “This can still be easy.”   
  
Her plans to head out early fly out of the window as she lets him take her back to bed a second time. It might not be love with this guy, but she finds genuine care in the way he holds her, in the way he handles her in the privacy of his bed. Every guy in her life so far has been a risk, an intense beating to her heart. Dean is the opposite; he’ll never bruise her heart in the same way because he won’t ever hold it. Though she’s beginning to care for him deeply, she can see how this won’t be the staggering romance that leaves her breathless.   
  
She manages to pry herself out of his arms and out of his bed an hour later, applying her lipstick in the hallway mirror. She’s been able to escape reality for the last twenty-four hours here, but it’s time to head back to her own rental, face the demons she’s been running from. From the moment she pulls up her driveway, that turns out to be quite literal.  
  
The sight of his truck catches her eye immediately, her heart starting to race when she sees his tall figure leaning against her front door. It’s weird how being faced with him again leaves her feeling like he’s entitled to things he’s not, makes her feel like he can tell where’s she’s been with just a simple glance.   
  
She searches for her keys, acknowledging him as soon as she finds them and undoes the lock.  
  
“I didn’t expect you here.”  
  
“But here I am.” Blake smiles, it being obvious in his voice even when she’s not physically looking at him to see it.  
  
“Here you are.”  
  
“Can I come in?”  
  
She’s surprised to hear him ask since she left the door open for him, already having stepped inside herself. She looks behind her and nods, feeling a surge of adrenaline rush through her when he closes the door behind him.  
  
He’s never been at her place before—which only now strikes her as weird.   
  
“Make yourself at home.” She says, throwing her keys down on the kitchen table, while disregarding her small jacket on the hanger in the hallway.   
  
She doesn’t look at him until she’s walking towards the couch, seeing Blake already sitting there, waiting.  
  
“You want some water or something? I’d offer you something else but I haven’t been here since yesterday morning.”   
  
She wants to slap herself for letting that piece of information slip, knowing full well that Blake must’ve picked up on what that meant. For her sanity, she prays he lets it go for now.  
  
“That’s fine, I just wanted to talk. See how you were doing.”  
  
She’s glad he’s letting her live this one down, and she wonders if maybe he’s not ready to hear the answers to his pondering questions.  
  
“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.”  
  
Blake shrugs. “I’ve been better, but definitely have been worse.”  
  
“That’s good.” She replies, nodding. “The having felt worse part, I mean.”  
  
“I know what you meant.” He smiles, both of them letting a silence follow. 

She hasn’t seen him for three days, but somehow it feels like weeks. It’s weird having him sit here a bit bashfully, after their last encounter had been anything but.   
  
“You really hurt me.” Gwen says suddenly, no longer needing the silence to put off what she’s been meaning to say for days.   
  
His face turns to her, the blue in his eyes appearing more clear than ever.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything else for a few moments and Gwen takes the opportunity to just look at him; she can tell the restless look in his eyes is still there, sleep probably still not coming to him, but he looks a bit more alive, a bit healthier.   
  
“You look better.”  
  
He grimaces. “I haven’t had a drink since that night.”  
  
“Good. That’s good, Blake.”  
  
“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He exclaims, holding her gaze. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”  
  
“You know, I can get over the fact that the one time we were intimate, was like _that_. It’s much harder getting over the fact that you wanted me to be there for you that day, only to treat me like the worst kind of back-up.”  
  
His eyes widen. “Don’t even say that, Gwen.”  
  
“How can I not?” She retorts, her expression apologetic as she can tell he’s hurt by the statement. “You literally told me I was there to fix things.”  
  
“Those were your words, not mine.”   
  
“It’s what you implied. Please don’t lie to me.”  
  
Her choice of wording is what gets his attention, his eyes snapping up to hers. For a moment she thinks a small outburst is coming, but he surprises her by scooting closer to her and the softening of his features.   
  
“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” He starts softly, rubbing his hand along the head of the couch, right where her head is leaning. “You could never be a back-up anything, Gwen. You are the only reason I’m even making this music. Even _that_ song—I never would’ve been able to write it if you hadn’t helped me open the floodgates.”  
  
She doesn’t know how to feel about Blake crediting her for a song he’s written with his ex-fiancée, but she hears genuine vulnerability in his voice.

“I just wanted to be there for you, but instead you made me feel like…” She shakes her head, unable to speak the words in regards to what she and Blake have.   
  
“Like what?” Blake pushes gently, holding her gaze.  
  
“Like I wasn’t enough for you.”  
  
The words are enough to quiet him, his face looking like he just got punched in the stomach. She looks away from the painful expression lingering on his handsome face, but his voice softly directs her attention back to him.  
  
“I’m an idiot.” He whispers, calling her name softly when she looks down again. “I’m so sorry for making you feel that way. I don’t…” Now it’s his turn to choke on his words, his teeth biting hard on his bottom lip. “I was hurt and angry…. _still_ am. But I should never have taken it out on you. Never you.”  
  
“Did it help?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly under the anxious rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins.   
  
“Lashing out at you?” Blake asks confused, his head already shaking to announce his negative answer.  
  
“Fucking me.”  
  
Blake nearly chokes on his breath, his eyes staring dumbly at her. She hates that she even had to ask the question, and it still hurts to realize that the only time she’s ever gone there with him, was in such an impersonal way.  
  
“Gwen, that’s not…” His voice trails off, causing her to feel it deep in her gut.  
  
“You went on stage an hour later. So I just wanna know, did it help?”  
  
“No.” He replies swiftly, playing nervously with his fingers. “Leaving you after that was nearly impossible.”  
  
“But it wasn’t.”  
  
“I had to go.”  
  
She nods. “You hurt me.”  
  
Her choice of words makes him look up at her so quickly, regret colouring his features immediately.  
  
“Do you mean— “ He doesn’t finish the question and the anguish in his eyes makes her aware of what he’s currently thinking, but unable to voice out loud.  
  
“Not the sex.” She addresses pointedly. “You didn’t hurt me physically.” She can visibly see his chest deflate, the relief coursing through him. “You hurt me by doing it like that. By not thinking I was worth the wait. By doing it just so you could feel better about yourself for a couple of hours.”  
  
“I didn’t feel better about myself at all.” He replies softly, the usual fight and determination in his voice lacking. It sounds like he’s tired and she almost feels bad for having this conversation now.  
  
“Then why? What was it about _that_ moment that just made you incapable of waiting?”  
  
“Because Gwen, you were the only good thing left in my life and you bounced. I needed you and you just disappeared.”  
  
“So it was _my_ fault?”  
  
“You disappeared and I realized exactly how much I needed you. How much I’ve always needed you.” His eyes bore into hers, his tongue pushing against his teeth. “When I came looking for you and you were just standing there looking at me like I was some stranger…. nothing ever felt more wrong. You were never supposed to leave. I was never supposed to make you want to.”  
  
She can’t help the burning feeling behind her eyes, tears threatening to spill. She shakes her head to keep them inward, inhaling deeply.  
  
“I should’ve stopped you.” She whispers, unable to look at him anymore.  
  
“It wasn’t a mistake.”  
  
“It was.” She retorts, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She can hear him starting to protest, but she cuts it off expertly. “I didn’t want it like that.”  
  
Her breathing hitches when he reaches out for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently between his.  
  
“It wasn’t just something casual for me, y’know?” He says softly, his thumb rubbing over her smooth palm. “I like you. A lot.”  
  
She shakes her head again, a stray tear making its way down.  
  
“I watched you perform with Miranda after that.”   
  
Blake swallows roughly, wincing. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“That wasn’t your fault. I chose to watch.”  
  
His eyes narrow on her. “Why?”  
  
She shrugs. “Cause a part of me was hoping you’d falter; a part of me hoped you’d be just as much of a mess as I was. I wanted to see if any of it had gotten to you.”  
  
“You know it did.”   
  
She chuckles. “You were more composed than ever.”  
  
“I didn’t want to be there.”  
  
She finally looks up at him again, biting her lip.

“It doesn’t even matter.”

He shakes his head, his proximity still weighing heavy on her mind as she can’t seem to escape the web he weaves around her with his presence. “I refuse to believe that.”

She’s about to argue his statement when her phone starts buzzing, her long nails making a prominent sound against the glass screen as she clicks him away pointedly. She makes a mental note to apologize to Dean later.

“I don’t even know why you’re here right now, Blake.” She says, disguising the question as a statement when she looks up again.

“I want to make things right.”

“We can keep things professional. I’ll be here for a few more weeks to write with you and after that we can go back to our lives and forget about this. We could keep it simple.”

The lies spill off her lips awkwardly, as she’s never been one for lying.

“Is that what you really want?” He asks, the question surprising her for some reason.

She bites her lip, not wanting to speak another lie out loud, but also not knowing what the truth is anymore. Everything is a jumbled mess in her mind and Blake’s presence does nothing to relief that.

“Is that what _you_ want?”  
  
“Absolutely not.” He answers swiftly, not missing a beat. “I know I messed up, I know I hurt you. Give me some time to make that right. Give yourself the freedom to keep me.”

_Give yourself the freedom to keep me_

It’s moments like these where she’s reminded of the writer Blake truly is. Never has she heard anyone phrase passion for her in that way, and she’s a bit speechless as she looks at him.

Her phone starts buzzing again, then. Blake’s eyes snap up to hers knowingly and she can tell he’s suppressing a chuckle.

“You’re gonna get that?”

She shakes her head, pressing red again. She tries formulating a response to Blake’s earlier words, when her phone chimes up again, this time with a text.

“I’m sorry.” She winces, getting up from her place on the couch, pacing. “I just need...”

“Take your time.”

She looks at him to try and read him, the calmness of his voice unexpected. She knows he’s aware of what’s going on, even when he doesn’t directly speak on it. She sends a quick “I’m home” text, followed by “I’m busy, I’ll text you later, I promise.” By the time she’s ready to engage in conversation with Blake again, his eyes are still fixated on her.

“What?” She asks, growing nervous underneath his stare.

“Is it getting serious, you and him?”

She swallows roughly, the question not at all surprising, she actually expected it sooner.

“I didn’t plan on continuing to see him...”

“Things change.”

She nods. “They do.”

“Do you like him?”

“I like how he makes me feel.”

Blake’s eyes never waver from her body, his jaw locking even though his features remain reasonably soft.

“Does he know about— “

“—No, and I’d like to keep it that way.” She interrupts pointedly.

“So it’s not serious enough for you to be completely honest with him, then.”

She wants to slap him at his audacity, her eyes going up to the ceiling.

“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Blake clicks with his tongue, the intensity of his gaze still heating up her body. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then don’t be an ass.”

He stands up, closing the distance between them as he comes to stand in front of her.

“Before anything, I want to be your friend. I don’t care about how hard that’s gonna be, I’m not willing to give up on that. Do you get that?”

She runs her hand down her jeans, not sure if it’s Blake standing in front of her or the way he just spoke those words, but she’s feeling uneasy again. She stares past him at the window, pretending to get distracted while she lets his question go unanswered.

“Tell me you at least know that.” He demands softly to the side of her face.

When her eyes return to his, she can tell there’s nothing but determination pooling there; he’s not gonna let this one go.

“I don’t want…” She shakes her head, a little bit frustrated with herself for giving in so easily. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

“Then let me work on it.” He agrees, giving her an eyebrow raise. “We can fix this.”

She scoffs. “Friends don’t do what we did.”

“Let’s not pretend like we weren’t different from the norm to begin with.” He retorts, his eyes still fixated on her. “There’s always been something there, whether we liked it or not.”

“I slept with Dean last night.”

She doesn’t know what makes her say it, but the look on Blake’s face much mirrors her own. Confusion comes first, not because of the content, there’s no way he didn’t already know what she just admitted, but surprise about her saying it out loud. Maybe it’s the fact he’s standing in front of her, begging for another chance, that makes her feel like she needs to lay all her cards on the table. Maybe it’s her anger still trying to get a rise out of him. She’s not sure, but whatever it is, she’s silently cursing herself for letting it win.

“I figured.”

She can feel them both intentionally avoiding eye contact, and it hits her in that moment. This feeling of separation, detachment, the never-ending obstacles that show up to keep them from having their moment.

“I care about him. I know he’s your friend, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You want to hurt _me_.” Blake nods, giving her a pained smile. “I know, and I don’t blame you.”

“Blake...”

“He’s not my closest friend, more like an acquaintance, so we can get that issue out of the way. Do I like it? Hell no…” His voice trails off, and her chest pounds at what he’s going to say next. “But I also understand you’ve been in the same position as me for way longer, and way worse. I can’t tell you what to do, Gwen. I can only tell you what _I_ want to do.”

“And what’s that?” She chokes out, finding it hard to draw breath.

“Be there for you.” He replies pointedly. “Let me be there for you, Gwen. Let me be your friend, one you can be proud of, one you can rely on.”

The sentiment of his statement is not lost on her, and she feels her chest slowly easing out the tension that settled there.

“I’m sorry too, you know?” She whispers, looking down at her feet. “For leaving you that day, for ignoring you the days after that.”

Blake shrugs. “Nah, I had that coming.”

She swallows. “Still.”

“You don’t need to apologize, but since I know you and I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about it, I’ll gladly accept your apology.”

She huffs out some quiet laughter.

“I guess I did miss your jokes.” She admits, looking up at him. “When you’re not being a jerk, you can actually make me smile.”

She stares at him for a few beats, her expression deadpan before her lips widen into a smile.

“Seems like I’m not the only one with the jokes.”

She squints at him. “Who says I’m joking?”

“Well _friend_, here’s to much more laughter.”

Blake sticks his hand out for her to shake, as if they just closed an important deal. She chuckles while accepting, her skin still riding with goosebumps at the light point of physical contact. It’s like her body has a mind of its own around him, and she’s helpless to do anything about it.

Blake and his friendship.

She wonders how long that will last.


	12. Feed Your Dreams, Starve Your Fears

He realizes he didn’t fully take in her house the last time he was here.

He looks around the living room, the space not too large, but spacious enough to hold some very creative decorations. The black and white in the hallway stopped immediately as he entered the main room, a dark shade of brown on the walls and a bunch of colourful flowers spread out across the room. The contrast brings a positive and lighter presence, as does the lavender coloured painting hanging above the TV. 

He can tell she tried colouring up the place since she couldn’t touch or repaint the walls. The few colourful items she decided to purchase stand out, but not in a bad way. He’s not surprised to see that Gwen managed to fuse her style with the Nashville home in a nothing but tasteful manner. 

He stands still for a moment, remembering his own living room. The one that’s now much more empty; picture frames taken away, the pink sofa in the back no longer there, the antique clock on the wall no longer in his possession, but most importantly he’s the only one living there anymore. He blinks when the memories start playing a black and white montage; fights he had with Miranda, thrown bottles and broken vases, sounds of slamming doors and whispered curses echoing in his ear. 

He blinks again to be pulled back into there here and now; Gwen’s personality filled home staring him back in the face, hitting him like a vivid technicolour with an upbeat soundtrack that sounds like his favorite song.

He’s still surprised she uttered the idea to him. He hadn’t meant to intrude in this way, his only motive was to complain to his only real friend in the world. He wanted to express to her how the news of his break-up finally hitting the news, had come with a new wave of sadness. He wanted her to know how bad he felt staying in that house, haunting him with all the bad memories. She only needed five seconds to invite him into her home. 

He thought about denying her offer, but she’d looked so hopeful when she asked, and he was in no state to deny the beauty of the prospect. He needs to be around someone good, someone with a pure heart, someone who could make him feel better with a single stare. 

He needs to be here.

He knows he’s made some mistakes with her; the regret of coupling with Gwen the way that he has, pressing heavy against his chest. The memory turns his palms sweaty and has his heart racing so hard, he feels like he’s having a heart attack.

He can’t deny being thrilled to know what her lips taste like. He remembers the way his lips had burned and slightly tingled when he crashed theirs together, or the way his body felt on fire and hypersensitive when they merged their bodies for the first time. He wishes the memory would’ve ended there, because he can’t get over the look on her face when all was said and done. She looked so hurt, so betrayed. This was Gwen he's talking about, the woman who’s always been there from the moment she walked into his life. He always thought that going there with her would’ve been soft and meaningful, with the sole purpose of letting her know how wanted she was.

He fucked that up.

Being here gives him a second chance though. A second chance at being her friend, a second chance at proofing that he deserves to be. 

Just like that, he hears gentle footsteps nearing the couch he’s sitting on. He inhales softly as her lithe body comes into view, sitting in front of him on the small coffee table.

“Hey.” She quips softly, her lips curving up into a small smile.

“Hey, yourself.” 

He takes the opportunity to just look at her for a second, loving the more toned down look she’s rocking. She’s traded her tight jeans for grey sweats and is wearing an oversized hoodie that swallows most of her upper body. Her hair is up in a low ponytail, some wild strands falling across her face. She looks divine.

“Thank you again for this.” Blake begins to say, but Gwen holds her hand up to cut him off.

“You don’t have to thank me for this, Blake. I get how hard it is to be there right now, and you know you always have a home away from home as long as I’m here.”

Blake nods gratefully, her words feeling like actual sunshine on his skin.

“I didn’t think that after... you know, you would still feel the same way about me.”

“As s friend?” Gwen asks.

Blake nods.

“We’ve talked about this already.” She muses gently, holding his gaze. “We let our feelings get the best of us and we both realize it shouldn’t have happened. At least not like that.”

“But now I’m here.” Blake states with a smile. “In your home.”

Gwen raises her brow with a smirk.

“Separate rooms.”

Blake nods. “Of course.”

“Boundaries.” She continues.

“Our middle name.”

She snorts. “We’ll make it happen. Team work.”

He looks at her again, this time softer, less playful. Her own eyes narrow at him, a comforting sparkle resonating there.

“I’m really grateful for this. I just want to make sure you know that.”

Gwen smiles. “I know.”

He shoots her another smile, enjoying the way this woman allows him to make a home in her temporary house. She helps him put his stuff in the guest room, quickly figuring out he’s a light traveller. It’s not quite certain how long he’ll stay here. For all he knows, she’s not staying in Nashville that long anymore. He knows he needs to talk to her about that soon, but he can’t get himself to start that conversation now.

He looks around the room he’s led to, smiling when Gwen immediately starts tidying some things up, murmuring some quick and soft apologies. He watches her for a moment, figuring out he likes watching her when she’s unaware. When she starts picking up his large bag to give it a place somewhere, he stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I got it.” He says quickly, taking the bag from her hands.

She rolls her eyes. “I never understood that about the so-called chivalry. We _can_ actually carry a bag, you know?”

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you again.”

She chuckles. “I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying deal with it.”

She looks at him, pushing against his chest playfully. She stands aside while he drops the bag into the lounge chair next to the favourable size closet.

“I hope it’s not too shabby…” She bites her lip. “I obviously didn’t expect anyone to stay in here.”

He walks back to where she’s standing, his hand rubbing softly along her sleeve-covered arm. The motion is not supposed to be as intense as it is, but apparently he can’t touch her without feeling like his whole body is set on fire from the inside out.

He retracts his hand quickly. “Gwen, this is perfect.”

She smiles in relief. “Tell me that again when you’ve actually spent a night in this bed; it’s clear my furniture is not quite made for your posture.”

Blake pretends to be offended. “Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you a big.”

Blake’s eyebrows wiggle before bursting into a wide grin, and Gwen’s slap to his arm comes absolutely expected.

“Don’t you dare make a sex joke out of that.”

Blake laughs wholeheartedly, relieved to know he can still feel genuine joy during this unstable time in his life.

“You almost make it too easy.”

“You’re such a child.” She laughs, shaking her head.

He doesn’t even mind the playful dig; she’s right, too. He feels so much more childlike around her, so much purer. There’s an innocence he taps into when he spends time with her, going back to the instinctive parts of his soul—the one he was told to suppress for so long. Yet, Gwen seems to understand his most unfiltered parts more than anything, or _anyone_ else.

“I’m sure the bed is fine.” He replies to her earlier statement, hoping she lets go of the thought he could ever be anything but grateful for being welcomed into her home. “If not, I can always take your couch.”

Gwen giggles. “Now you’re _really_ pushing it.”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing until he does it, but his hand moves to her hip, tapping there lightly. “One more size joke and I’m unleashing all my dirtiest jokes on you, no shame.”

To his surprise, she doesn’t move away from his light touches.

“We’ll see about that.” She winks, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the mood around again. “I’m really happy you’re here, Blake. Why don’t I go change into something a bit more comfortable and then we can make some dinner?”

He’d been so focused on being here with her, he completely forgot about eating, but he smiles at her sweetly before nodding.

“Take your time.”

She turns around, her hand lingering on the doorframe for a few seconds before leaving him alone. He’s still a bit surprised at how easy it was for them to fall back into easy banter, the weirdness of the situation dissipating immediately. They spent so much time bickering these last few days, he almost forgot how easy talking to her really is; she’s incredibly light-hearted, on top of very knowledgeable. She sees the world with an optimism and innocence that he admires, especially after the little fragments of her past she’s shared with him so far.

He unpacks a few more of his belongings, smiling when he hears Gwen already rummaging through the kitchen. Deciding he wants to join her as soon as he can, he trades his shirt in for a comfortable hoodie and joins her in the living room.

*

She hates when it happens this suddenly; the zoning out that brings her back to the past, her thoughts suddenly intent on making her remember everything she left behind in California. She doesn’t know if it’s because Blake is here now and her life feels so strangely new and yet familiar, that it forces her to look back at where she came from.

She doesn’t even realize Blake joined her back in the living room, having already left the kitchen as her legs had a mind of their own. Her pacing brings her to stand in front of the couch, eyes staring out of the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Are you in there?”

Blake’s voice startles her, his inviting grin present on his face as he looks her up and down. He takes a few tentative steps towards her before lowering himself on the couch, keeping his gaze on her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, forcing herself to turn around and face him. “Just thinking.”

“I can see that.” Blake retorts. “You wanna share any of your thoughts?”

She scrunches her nose, the idea of opening up about her thoughts less than appealing.

“Just some old baggage deciding to come knocking.”

She laughs it off a bit, though Blake’s eyes continue to lock with hers. His gaze is a serious one, though it’s dripping with understanding. It’s like he can tell she’s hit with the sudden change of having another man living with her, even its temporary, even if it’s not _her_ man. The sudden adjustment and change have her mind swirling with old thoughts, and Blake’s honest interest in what they are, makes her incredibly nervous, yet feel incredibly seen.

“You never really told me the whole story.” He states carefully, his voice sounding like he’s asked the question a million times in the comfort of his own mind.

She’s embarrassed to say that she’s scared. She’s always considered herself to be an open person, unafraid to show her true feelings. But here, in the slightly illuminated living room, in front of Blake, she’s terrified. 

“Just like you had to find out the hard way, so did I.” She replies pointedly, sounding much more confident than she really is in the moment.

“You’re telling me you needed more proof after he made you feel guilty for his own mistake?”

Blake’s words are not surprising, but they irk her nonetheless.

“Are you blaming him for the accident?” 

“I’m blaming him for screwing up whatever he had with you.” Blake retorts easily, keeping their gazes locked. “I know that has to have been the biggest mistake of his life.”

She shakes her head, Blake’s words almost funny if they weren’t so damn heartbreaking too. She takes the short moment to form her words to sit down next to him, sinking into the back of the couch.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way.” She smiles bitterly, sitting down on the couch cushion next to him, not caring about how she’s basically pressed against his side. 

She didn’t do it on purpose, at least so she tells herself.

“How do _you_ see it?” Blake asks, not moving an inch, apparently fine with the lack of personal space. 

She thinks about beating around the bush, but she moved here with the intention to start fresh. No matter how hard, Blake’s giving her an opportunity to do so by bringing this up now. He’s allowing her to get it all out and start clean; let him on the part she hates most about herself and let him accept her regardless. She can finally shred that final piece of embarrassment and leave it behind here when she moves back to California. Blake is giving her a way out of that painful cocoon she’s been so desperate to escape. 

“I wanted to save him, badly.” She admits, chuckling to herself. “I wanted to help him go back to his old self after the accident. I thought loving him every step of the way would be enough.”

Blake nods in silence. “Who says it wasn’t?”

“The drugs.” Her reply is quick and she can tell Blake’s momentarily taken aback. She takes the opportunity to continue. “The verbal attacks every time I talked about anything that made me excited. He couldn’t be happy for me anymore, about _anything_, and I understood.”

It’s an ugly truth, but it’s the most honest one. Jake had lost a part of his life in that accident and she would sacrifice a part of hers to make him feel better. 

“He said he used the drugs to feel better physically, he was always in pain. His back never fully recovered.” She explains, breaking Blake’s eye contact when she feels herself tear up. “I knew he was using it as an excuse at some point, but he was almost nicer when he was doped up, you know? The drugs did what I never could.”

“You did what you could, Gwen.” He says quietly, his shoulder nudging her when she gets lost in her own thoughts again.

“He had a way of making me feel so worthless, so scared...” She trails off, biting back a sob. “When we ended, I knew I could never allow anyone to make me feel the way he did, ever again.”

“He was dead wrong.” Blake agrees, the heat of his stare colouring her cheek with a flush. “About all of it.”

She shudders out an anxious breath.

“Being here...” She starts, a smile finally creeping on her lips again. “It made me find myself again, made me believe in myself again. I even managed to get rid of the locks on my door.”

Blake’s brows quip at the new piece of information, his body tensing beside her.

“Gwen, did he ever hurt you?” The question pains him to ask, she can tell, but he’s determined to get an answer. “Physically?” He adds.

It’s the question she’s least excited about answering, but she decides to bare her soul once more.

“He shoved me a few times, pressed me against the furniture to trap me, but he’d never actually hit. Just threatened to, a lot.”

There’s a silence that follows her admission and she looks up at Blake to find genuine anguish there.

“When I pushed you against the wall...” He asks, his voice nothing more than a chocked murmur. 

Her eyes widen as he brings up their intense sexual encounter, recognition flashing across her features. She shakes her head quickly, almost _too_ quickly.

“I knew you’d never hurt me. It wasn’t the same. At all.”

“I’m sorry.”

She’s never heard his voice like that; so incredibly raw and pained. She knows exactly what he’s apologizing for too; the old feeling of rejection and worthlessness that filled her being again after quite literally being taken like that. He’s apologizing for having been so wrapped up in his own hurt, he couldn’t see the wars being fought inside her own heart. She knows he can only be blamed for so much, most of him completely oblivious to the depths of her past, but she’s no stranger to feeling guilt that’s not supposed to be hers to carry. 

“Despite everything...” she chokes out. “I don’t think you realize how much you've helped me heal.”

This truth, a much lighter one, seems to be the one that really knocks the wind out of them both.

She hesitates only slightly before she wraps her shaking arms around his neck, drawing his body closer to hers. She tells herself she is doing this for him-- desperate to wipe the look of dismay off his face. But as she sinks into his hold she knows this is all so selfishly for her. He is warm and firm and stable — all the things she needs right now and she clings to his body as if she's never gonna hold him again. Seconds tick by and it isn't long until his arms start to gently cocoon her back, pulling her carefully into him until her chest is flattened against his. He is tentative at first, his hands trying to find their place before he rests his chin softly on the crown of her head.

She lets a small sob escape, a relief filled exhale falling into his neck and she can feel his heart beating along with hers. The sound echo’s in her ears, pulsing through her body, as he literally melts the tension out of her. 

She holds him while she sheds final tears about the man who stole her dreams and forced her to go after them all over again. She shudders out the last bit of anguish she was holding on to, letting go of the fear, the shame, the guilt. 

35 seconds.

That's how long their hug lasts before he pulls back slightly, a few strands of her static hair getting caught on his cheek and his hand comes out to separate them, gently removing the locks that she realizes had been sticking to _his_ tears.

He is staring into her eyes, looking at her strangely as if he's only just discovered something about her, something she hasn't allowed him to see before. She feels on display— his gaze, his proximity, his presence, his warm breath against her face, the disarming way he holds her.

_He doesn’t judge her._

He’s known her to be confident most of the time, he’s used to the Gwen who’s always put together and knows what to say. But here in his arms, dismantled as ever and completely speechless, he’s here for her too.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?" He whispers against her face, his free hand now framing the side of her cheek.

She shakes her head.

"We can order in." He suggests quietly.

She doesn't want to answer for fear he will move out of their embrace, so she just stares into his blue pools of calm. 

"Tell me what you need.” He whispers to her, keeping her firmly cocooned in his arms. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

His voice begs her to give him something tangible, something he can hold onto.

Then it's one word that's filling her chest before it expels into the fickle air around them.

"Stay."

She’s not surprised to find him holding on to her for the next hour or so. Until she’s ready.


	13. Ten Times Crazier About You

It’s been weirdly domestic, this thing they’ve got going on; she woke up to Blake having done groceries, saying he didn’t want to impose on her privacy this much without at least doing his part to contribute to the household. The day got away from them as they both lived past each other for a few hours, taking care of a few chores here and there. They decided to go to the studio later tonight, wanting the rest of the day off to just be home. It’s strange that her home is now also his, and it’s even weirder to think about how easy the transition has been.

She finds herself sitting on the couch with him, watching a game of football she knows nothing about. She used to hate when her ex-boyfriend made her watch shows she couldn’t stand, but with Blake she feels like it doesn’t matter what she’s doing—being in his presence is enough. 

She tears her eyes away from the screen, as it’s not able to keep her attention, and focuses it on the side of his face. His arm is stretched out behind her on the couch, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He looks at peace here; with both their lower bodies covered by a thin blanket and the enjoyment of what he’s watching reflected on his face, he looks like he could spend another three hours being sat here, just like this.

A knock on the door startles them, the silence between them having zoned them both out. Blake’s brows lift, his expression turning from lazy to curious. She smiles in return, forcing herself off the couch. She can tell Blake’s attention is back on the game again, their new visitor already forgotten as he makes a small sound of victory for his team.

She ignores the sore ache in her joints as she forces herself towards the door, having not moved for entirely too long. Her hand involuntarily tightens around the doorknob as she takes in the sight in front of her.

“Sorry to be showing up like this, I probably should’ve called first.”

Dean looks a bit sheepishly at her, and she’s too surprised to dead his argument.

“Uhm no, it’s fine.” She says softly, still stunned, her heart doing a weird flip. “It’s just, Blake’s here and he’s going to be here for a while.”

Dean’s eyes widen in realization and a bit of shock, her body feeling a strange sense of guilt coursing through her— even if she made it clear she wasn’t in this for anything serious, she doesn’t want to be the cause of _that_ expression on his face.

“I’ll come back another time.” He speaks softly, both realizing the statement probably doesn’t hold much truth to it.

She wants to let him walk away, since it would definitely be the easiest option; his presence here confuses things and might end up hurting both men. But this guy has been sweet to her from the moment they met. He deserves more.

“You can come in.” She argues, stepping aside to clear the way for him. “We can talk upstairs.”

Just like that, Blake appears behind her, his gaze soft as it lands on her. She’s suddenly aware she can’t hear the background noise of the television anymore, and realizes he turned off the game before sauntering over to her.

“I just remembered I still have some stuff to pick up. See you in about an hour?”

She shouldn’t have been surprised at his offer to leave them alone, but she was. It’s obvious he’s giving them the privacy they need to talk about things, though Blake couldn’t possibly know that _talking_ is all she wants to do. It’s the considerate and accepting nature of the gesture that has her biting her lip before breaking their gaze.

“Come in.” She says again, looking at Dean who’s looking at the exchange painfully quiet. “An hour is good, Blake. Thank you.”

Blake only nods, giving Dean one final look and a grimace of a smile before disappearing off her property. She has no idea where Blake is _actually_ going, since going back to his place is out of the question and the studio is something they’ve reserved together for later.

She closes the door once Dean has finally made his way inside. His eyes scan his surroundings, much like she had done when she first went over to his place. His eyes settle on the large and comfortable couch, and Gwen gestures for them both to sit down, picking up the tossed aside blanket she and Blake had snuggled under for the last two hours.

Her gaze lands on the side of his face, her legs crossed beneath her as she sits closely to him. For a moment, she lets the silence linger on, afraid to say anything and ruin what she hoped could at least be a flourishing friendship.

“I’m not mad.” He says softly, turning his face to look at her properly. He must’ve felt the burning of her eyes on the side of his head, smiling when he catches her staring.

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head. “I always knew that when it came down to him or me, it wouldn’t be me.”

Her breathing hitches, her chest holding an uncomfortable amount of pressure.

“He’s not here for _that_.” She hears herself say, and though it’s the truth, she doesn’t know why it’s so hard for her to admit that Dean’s right. “He needed a place to stay. We’re friends.”

Dean hums. “Technically, so are we.”

She casts her eyes down, knowing he’s thinking about the same thing she is. The way he has heard her breathy pleas in his ears, and the way she sank her teeth into his shoulders no longer than two days ago.

“I don’t mean to upset you.” He says after a few seconds of silence, his gaze on her sincere. “When I told you I wanted to be there for you, in whatever way that might be, I was telling you the truth. All I ask for is to not be lied to, that’s all.”

She looks up at him again, his words and demeanour both confident. She wishes there was a way she could love Blake and not give this man the short end of the stick. Unfortunately, those two things seemed to be mutually exclusive.

“I don’t know what to say.” She whispers, biting her lip again, quickly realizing that it’s one of her nervous tics. “I didn’t know if this was something I was supposed to tell you about, since we’re not…you know? It happened really quickly, and I just feel a responsibility to help him out. Be there for him.”

“But you want more from him, right?”

Dean’s question is upfront and as much as she struggles with an answer, she knows he deserves one.

“I think so, yeah.”

The words feel weird to admit, but there’s a heavy weight that lifts off her shoulders once she does. She half expects him to get mad right about now, to walk away and never talk to her again, but nothing about this evening goes as she expected it would.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes widen, her facial expression expressing nothing but confusion.

“For what?” She asks.

“Being honest. Like I told you before, I’m a big boy. I can handle whatever you decide to throw at me, as long as you’re not bullshitting me.”

She looks at him stunned, this whole conversation going much easier than expected. Dean’s smile makes it obvious that he’s picking up on her relief, and she doesn’t stop herself when he motions for her to come closer and lean against him a bit.

She lets her shoulder lean against his side, her head leaning on his shoulder. It’s not meant to be romantic, or even as anything more than support. To know that she still hasn’t lost his, despite the gentle rejection, makes a sigh of relief rolling off her lips.

“Blake and I are not together. I just want you to know that.”

Dean chuckles. “Is that your way of saying sorry?”

“It’s my way of saying that I haven’t lied to you.”

She can feel him nod against her. “I already said I wasn’t mad at you, Gwen.”

“I just hate this.”

“And you’re not even the one getting ditched.”

She gasps. “I’m not ditching you.”

“You’re not waking up in my bed anymore either.”

She closes her eyes, enjoying the way his broad shoulder continues to support her head. She’s been fighting men all her life, and this one seems to just want her to have a place to lean on. If she’d met him six months earlier, she thinks she could’ve honestly fallen for him hard. Right now, her mind is consumed with only one thing; Blake Shelton.

She craves the raging feelings he awakens inside of her; she craves the honesty of his words and the sensuality of his presence. She craves the way her body reacts to Blake when he walks in a room or the way he thrills her because he’s different. He’s got baggage of his own, but never lets an opportunity slide to lift someone else up. She’s willing to forgive his mistakes, cause what she gets in return is so much greater than anything else.

“I wanna keep hanging out with you.” She states softly.

As much as all her previous thoughts were true, Dean has given her something else to like; the normalcy and easiness of getting together. He’s been a true friend, in between their bedroom adventures. He’d let her rant about the industry, her insecurities, even Blake. She’d been able to confide in him and have it feel normal. She’s not ready to give up the second friend she made here in Nashville.

“I want to keep hanging out with you, too. I just don’t know how much Blake would like that.”

Her head lifts from his shoulder, her eyes snapping up to his.

“This is not Blake’s call.” She replies quickly, shaking her head. “Blake is my friend and as for right now, that’s _all_ he is. He doesn’t get to choose who I spent my time with.”

“Even if the person you’re spending your time with is someone who’s seen ya naked?”

“Not even then.”

She’s likes Blake, she’s pretty sure she even loves him, but this is something she’s gotta do for herself. Blake just came out of a serious relationship, and she’s not about to be his rebound until he realizes he’s over his ex. She knows he’s still got some figuring out to do, some serious consideration about what and _who_ he wants. In the meantime, she’s not ready to sit around and wait for someone who might not even choose her in the end. If she wants to continue spending her time with Dean, she doesn’t see a single rational reason as to why she shouldn’t.

“I feel like I’m getting mixed signals here, Gwen.”

She doesn’t miss a beat this time.

“I don’t want to lose this friendship.”

She leans her head back on his shoulder, feeling his body relaxing against her.

“He and I are friends too, you know?”

She swallows roughly, wincing internally at the thought. “I know.”

“If you want to give him a serious shot, we can’t…”

“I know.”

Dean nods. “Friends it is, then.”

She feels the weight of his own head pressing gently against hers, snuggling up to him feeling weirdly appropriate for some reason. They stay like that until the doorbell interrupts the moment, her eyes immediately searching for his.

“You better give him hell. No way those were sixty minutes.”

She snorts. “Were you actually counting?”

He winks at her.

“Maybe.”

She lets out another laugh before opening the door, smiling when she sees Blake standing there with his hand rubbing his neck. She doesn’t say anything before letting him in, instead she mouths a soft thank you. He nods at her in return, intending to move straight for the kitchen, but Dean stops him.

“Hey man, I was just about to head out. Mind walking with me?”

Gwen turns her attention back to him, her eyes asking him the question she doesn’t want to say out loud; what the fuck?

To her surprise, Blake nods.

Deciding to stay out of this one and trust Dean’s usually calm presence to not pick a fight with Blake, she goes to give him a quick hug goodbye. He lets go of her rather quickly, and though she hopes their relationship won’t change too much, she understands.

Blake walks him out and it takes every fibre of her being to not eavesdrop behind the door. Instead, she walks to the kitchen and fixes herself a much-needed cup of coffee, replaying the conversation she just had with him in her head. She’s so deep in thought, she doesn’t even hear Blake walk in until he’s almost standing directly in front of her.

“You seemed to have wondered far, _far_ off.” Blake chuckles, reaching for the upper cabinet and fixing himself a glass of water. She knows he’s staying away from the alcohol, knowing his still heartbroken state makes him more at risk of taking it too far.

“What did Dean say to you?”

She can’t help but ask, the question swirling around in her mind like a mantra.

“He said he hoped this didn’t mess with what we had. He didn’t want to make things awkward, but he cares for you.”

“He’s been a really good friend to me. Still is.”

Blake nods. “That’s good to know.”

Blake’s calm demeanour reminds her a lot of Dean’s, and while she’d normally crave this type of peacefulness, right now it’s driving her absolutely crazy.

“Please tell me you were nice to him.”

His eyes find hers so quickly she’s afraid he might’ve pulled something, his jaw locking before a sparkle finds its way back into his deep pools of blue.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?”

She shoots him a knowing glance, cocking her head. “Really?”

“I’ve known him way longer than I’ve known you.”

The words throw her off, her eyes widening as she realizes what he’s implying. She suddenly feels terrible for feeling like he would pick her over his friend he’s known way longer, scolding herself for her brief moment of arrogance.

“I’m sorry, I know that.” She says, looking up at the ceiling. “I was just—you know what, just forget it.”

“I’m not saying I’m particularly happy with the situation. You’re not being crazy for sensing that or even _expecting_ that.”

“But you would never cast him aside because of it.” She follows up, the truth dawning on her. She can’t help but smile at him softly, happy to know he’s gracious enough in this moment to still be a man he can be proud of.

“Unless he hurts you, no I won’t.”

She holds his gaze, biting her lip. “I think _I_ am the one hurting him.”

“I think you’re underestimating the guy.” Blake quips. “From what I could see, he was doing just fine.”

“He felt like I was ditching him.” She replies, shaking her head at the guilty feeling rushing back into her body.

“Were you?”

“We weren’t together to begin with.”

“Gwen.”

“I don’t know, Blake. Maybe I was.” She admits, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t know what I’m doing with him, I just know I care about him a lot.”

“Maybe you should give him a chance, then.”

Her eyes open, frowning. “Are you saying…”

“That I want you to be happy? Yeah.” He steps closer to her, his hand reaching for her arm and making sure she stays in place. She wasn’t thinking about backing away anyways, and that scares her more than his sudden proximity.

“You’re so confusing.” She whispers, not meeting his gaze any longer.

He chuckles. “I don’t mean to be.”

“You want me to be happy?” She asks, feeling the sensation of his thumb softly rubbing across her arm.

“Of course I do.”

She lets her hand move to his chest, much like she did that time outside the bar, only this time she doesn’t let herself venture and explore the expanse of his torso.

“You can’t just say that.” She whispers, looking up at him. “I need more than words.”

Blake nods. “I know.”

“Do you?” Her fingers retract from their place on his chest, and the only contact that remains is Blake’s hand on her arm.

“What do you want me to say, Gwen?” He asks directly, still holding her arm with his large palm. “I know you need more than words, that’s why I’m trying to show you.” He takes another step and this time she _does_ back away, his movements halting. “I’m not gonna do anything you’re not ready for, sweetheart. Not again.” He replies to her quick retreat and she looks at him in apology.

“I just don’t want us to make any more mistakes.”

“That makes two of us.” Blake smiles, letting go of her arm and she misses the feeling immediately.

“Is this still us being friends?” She chokes out, unable to stop her body from yearning for this man.

He shakes his head. “Not at all. This is us being way more, but I do want your friendship.”

His answer makes her head spin, and her body burst out into goosebumps. She secretly craves this kind of honesty, but it doesn’t make hearing it any less confrontational. It’s almost scary how much she wants him; despite his flaws, despite _hers_—it appears nearly impossible to let him go. She feels like she’s known him for a lifetime, like he’s been hers for years, but the truth is she never even came close to having him to herself.

The closest she’s ever been, is right now. The thought immediately scares her into retreating again.

“I should head upstairs, get dressed for when we’re heading out soon.”

She chokes out the words, Blake’s knowing stare only making it harder to breathe.

He nods simply. “Sure.”

She draws another breath as if she’s going to say anything, but she thinks better of it. Instead, she moves away quickly, heading upstairs and hoping that some distance for a little while would simmer down these intense emotions she’s feeling.

Blake and her heart. It doesn’t get much more powerful than that.

*

She pulls the microphone closer to her mouth, still a bit unsure about what he’s asking from her. They’ve finished two more songs tonight, both were near finished before they entered the studio tonight, and they were able to put the finishing touches on them. She can’t wait for Blake to share these new tunes with the world, as she’s absolutely convinced he’ll find new energy and satisfaction in his career once he does. These songs show his heart, which is something too beautiful and entirely too powerful to waste. They’ve been making great songs together, but Blake wanted more from her tonight.

She was sure she’d deny him, shake her head and brush him off, but that’s not what happened. He’d looked at her so sure, so convinced, it reminded her of herself in the earlier days. She couldn’t deny she got the hang of it again—singing, performing. Something inside her started doing flips at the thought of hearing her voice on an official studio recording. Thinking about the first time being with Blake, a country singer who she’d never heard of before moving here, is entirely too crazy, yet too exciting to put into words.

So, that’s how she’s finding herself here; in front of a microphone, next to a strumming cowboy, who’s ready to record their first take. She lets her eyes scan over the sheet of lyrics in front of her, feeling herself get choked up as she reads back these words. Though the song is mostly about Blake’s heartbreak, she can find her own story there too. She’s always had the gift of relating to people easily, her heart so open to everyone else, it somehow felt impossible not to make their stories her own. Songwriting thought her that exact thing; no matter how different the person, everyone goes through similar emotions.

Blake’s different on paper, but their hearts, their stories, are much of the same. Both have felt tremendous guilt, both have been betrayed, both have felt incredibly unlucky in love. They’re not her words this time, but they hurt the same.

“You ready?” Blake drawls softly, looking at her gently. His fingers lightly strum the snares beneath his fingertips, waiting for Gwen to give him the green light.

She inhales deeply, nodding. “Are you starting us off?”

A small grin appears on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

She feels the worst tension subside when he starts playing the familiar melody, his voice quickly enough filling the air around them. She’s almost a bit jealous of the way he seems to literally breathe music; the notes and musicality flowing out of him with the least bit of effort. Even when he’s unaware, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Darling?”

It takes her a few seconds to realize he’s stopped playing, her eyes momentarily moving up to his face. She’s about to ask him why he stopped, when he beats her to it.

“That was your cue.”

Her eyes widen. “Shit, sorry, I thought…” She shakes her head again, feeling the nerves rise again.

“Sweetheart, you’ve done this a million times before. Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself?”

She swallows roughly. “We’ve never recorded a song together.”

“We don’t have to release it, or at least not as a duet.” He says softly, making sure his words connect with her. “I just thought it would be cool to hear your voice on it at least once.”

She nods, hating herself for getting so emotional and in her head about this.

“Play it again.” She demands softly, nodding. “I’ll get it this time.”

The words come out rather enthusiastically, trying to resolve the almost awkward atmosphere that threatened to ensue. Blake’s fingers once again start the beginning chords, his voice going smoothly over the first verse and chorus. She keeps herself focused this time, singing along in her head and inhaling deeply when she recognizes her cue.

Her voice sounds a bit rough to her own ears when she attempts at the second verse, and she closes her eyes to try and keep the frustration inward. She wants to be better for him, for herself, but years of anxiety come creeping up on her. Before starting the second chorus, she stops herself.

“I’m sorry, this just isn’t sounding right.”

Blake’s gaze snaps up at her, continuing to create some sounds on the guitar, but abandoning the original song.

“Gwen…” He breathes. “You sound amazing.”

“You kinda have to say that.” She retorts, not looking at him.

Blake’s reply is swift, the low whistle coming from the back of his throat demanding her attention. His fingers lay still against the snares, holding her gaze.

“Do you trust me?”

Her eyes widen, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Of course, but…”

“If you do, then you _know_ I won’t lie to you—especially not about this.”

His words sound so real and raw, she feels like closing her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles a little as she takes in what he’s saying to her, but she doesn’t allow any tears to spill over.

“How are you not tired of this yet?” She chuckles quietly under her breath, fumbling with the edge of her grey shirt. “It’s like every time I feel like I’m getting somewhere, something reminds me of my voice not being all that.”

“Your voice _is_ all that.” He replies, staring at her soft pink lips. “I don’t mind reminding you of that, whenever you forget.”

She smiles at him softly. “I just want to do your song justice.”

“The best way for you to do the song justice, is for you to be on it.”

She shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the situation; she’s supposed to be a professional, she’s supposed to be there to make his songs better, not scare herself into ruining things. Inhaling deeply, she nods for him to start the music over.

This time, recording goes smoothly and she’s even surprising herself when she places some naturally-sounding adlibs that enhance the songs even more. Blake glances over at her with pride, nodding at the subtle changes. She doesn’t get the time to worry about overstepping, as Blake’s eyes light up with the kind of adoration she’s only ever seen from him.

After going over the song one more time, purely because of his perfectionism, they end up sitting on the leather couch again, shoulder to shoulder. It’s the place that feels most comfortable now; it’s almost weird how much she hates _not_ being close to him.

“I really wasn’t kidding when I said I make the best music when you’re around.” Blake says casually, holding her gaze even when he realizes she wants to break it. She wonders if he even realizes how much of what he says knocks the wind out of her, at times.

“I think you’re once again giving me too much credit.” She deadpans, brushing off his compliment.

“I think not.” Blake retorts quickly, biting down on his lower lip. “I’m gonna miss having you here when you’re gone.”

She’s suddenly reminded of another topic she wanted to talk to him about, feeling grateful he brought it up himself.

“Talking about that…” She starts softly, suddenly nervous at her new admission that’s about to roll off her tongue. “I was thinking about staying a bit longer. Just to spend some more time here, maybe continue our sessions… if you’d like.”

She didn’t plan on being so transparent about her reasons for staying, but she figures they’ve both dealt with enough lies and uncertainties; this is something she wants to be clear about—_needs_ to be clear about.

Blake’s brows raise, his lips curving up into a smile. 

“Are you serious?”

Gwen nods. “Yeah. It’s been good for me to be here and I don’t necessarily feel like I’m ready to pack up and go home yet, you know? I feel like I have more to give, more to do here.”

He looks ten seconds away from scooping her up in his arms and doing some sort of victory dance, but he stays put where he’s standing, his head shaking in a bit of disbelief.

“You keep surprising me, woman. You know that?”

Gwen giggles. “I take that as a good thing…”

“It is.” He affirms, nodding happily. “God Gwen, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you soon. Not at all.”

She tries not to think about how good his words feel, and instead revels in how good this decision of hers feels now she’s finally shared it with Blake.

“Since we’re in the sharing mood…I have some news of my own.” Blake says softly, a mischievous look plastering on his features.

“Blake!” She exclaims, her lips slightly parting. “Please tell me it’s not something bad. I can’t deal with any more— “

“It’s not bad.” He cuts her off, grinning. “Not at all.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles. “Are you gonna let me talk now?”

She rolls her eyes, her heart beating loudly against her chest, the feeling only intensifying by his playful teasing.

“Go on.”

“So, I made a few calls to the label last night and we had a good conversation about where I wanted to go musically…”

Gwen’s eyes widen, the anticipation rising to new levels. “And?”

“And, I told them I did what they wanted me to do, and now it was time for them to return the favour. I’ve earned that.”

She can hardly contain the pride and excitement she feels in this moment, beyond relieved to finally see Blake setting strict boundaries and demands for himself and everyone around him. She firmly believed in the fact that music should never be restricted, and it seemed like Blake finally got with the program too.

“We’re announcing the release date for Anyone Else next week. It’ll be out by the end of the month. I want everyone to know we wrote it together too, I thought maybe we could do some promo together, talk about how the song came about?”

Gwen’s stuck between gazing at him like an idiot and trying to keep from squeaking, unable to come up with an articulate response. Blake’s smile is a knowing one, and she’s relieved to see understanding on his features.

She shakes her head, her hand holding onto his shoulder. “Blake, are you serious right now?”

Blake nods proudly. “It should’ve come out way sooner, but yes, I can’t wait actually.”

“We’re doing this?” She quips excitedly, her eyes wide.

“We’re doing this.” He affirms with a smile, nodding.

She doesn’t even think before she’s jumping in his arms, her own wrapped around his neck.

“Oh my god, we’re really doing this.” She murmurs against his neck, feeling her skin vibrating underneath her excitement.

Blake chuckles. “It’s about damn time. It’s been my favorite song from the moment we wrote it.”

“It’s definitely my favorite song I’ve ever been a part of too.” She admits, pulling back a bit bashfully as she realizes she quite literally jumped into his arms.

Blake’s still beaming at her, his hands on her lower back.

“Thank you for this, Gwen. Really, it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

She takes a few seconds to seriously look at him, her head shaking in disbelief. Still feeling a bit overwhelmed at meeting him, and at the fact that this culture clash of theirs works. They come together to make the most beautiful music of their careers. It’s just all a bit too much— in the best way.

“_Oh my god._” She whispers, pulling herself back into his embrace, tightening her hands on his back. “I can’t believe you’re real sometimes. I can’t believe we actually wrote this song together and it’s coming out.” She feels Blake chuckle against her, and for a moment she forgets where she is, forgets about everything but the plain and simple truth. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth is out..


	14. I Can't Afford Not To Love You

She brings her hand to her lips, fingers running lightly over them as if she can’t believe the words that just spilled past them. Her eyes are avoiding his gaze with a mission, his silence in this moment only triggering her anxiety more. Of course, she could’ve just told him she loved him as a friend, no big deal. Only, there’s no doubt in her mind he knows that’s not what this is. Her meaning was clear and it nails her to the spot, her body growing restless. She curses herself for saying the words now, for jeopardizing the friendship they’re carefully trying to get back at again.

She hears Blake draw in breath, about to speak, when she snaps. “Just ignore me, don’t say anything, it’s fine. We should keep this simple, that’s what you’re thinking right? You’re thinking I ruined everything by telling you this now, and you’re probably going crazy trying to come up with an excuse to not have to say it back.”

He tries to interrupt her, but she’s long passed the point of reason. “Please don’t, I don’t want to hear it. It’s okay. I mean, I just can’t believe myself sometimes, you know? I try to be your friend, I try to have a bit more of a social life at the same time, and apparently, I suck at maintaining both. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I….”

“Gwen…” The name rolls of his lips so softly, almost as if he hasn’t said it at all. “Breathe.”

“_Don’t_—” Another one of her upcoming ramblings is cut off before she can properly start it.

“I kinda figured it would be obvious by now.” He interrupts, his large, calloused hand cupping her chin. He tries to smile as he looks into her eyes, trying to calm her. “I love you too.”

Her body is seemingly still in fly modus, because she shakes her head, trying to get out of his grip. He brings both hands to her face in response, holding her steady, never breaking their gaze.

“Stop flipping out on me, baby. Did you hear what I just said?”

The pet name must’ve just slipped out, because he doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. Her own heart is beating violently at the course of events; the hold he has on her face, the words he speaks, the pet name he used—she feels like she’s having an outer body experience.

“Blake…” She whispers, his name almost sounding like a prayer; needing him to mean his words, praying he’ll continue to be stronger than her in this moment, since someone needs to get them through this predicament.

“I love you.”

He repeats the words again, this time speaking them directly at her, his eyes damn near boring into her soul. She can feel the tears stinging at the back of her eyes, wishing they didn’t promise each other friendship first. Wishing she could get away with moving forward and pressing her lips to his, even if it’s just a chaste kiss to remember the taste of his mouth.

He must’ve had a similar idea just now, since his tongue wets his lips underneath her gaze, yet his body stays in the exact same place. His hands continue to cup her cheeks.

“Please don’t feel like you need to say it just cause I did.”

He takes a deep breath at her words, and she knows he’s about to spit out the most basic truth, plain English, no more dancing around each other, no more metaphors. Just the truth.

Simple.

“I have loved you since the first day you walked into this studio. I might not have always known how much or in what way, but I always knew, Gwen. I love you.”

“It should not have taken you this long to tell me, then.” She says, ending the sentence with a breathy chuckle, though there’s a hint of bitterness there, one that Blake picks up on.

“You’re right.” He nods, smiling softly as he continues to cup her face. “But I’m saying it now. And I’ll continue to tell you, if you’ll allow me.”

And just like that, the dam opens. She feels bad for getting emotional on him again, but having had to suppress her feelings for so long, and finally feeling like she’s being loved by someone who’s not out to hurt her, have her emotions running freely. Her hand cups her mouth, her head shaking as she’s unable to keep the tears from flowing.

He steps forward, wraps her in his arms and feels her whole body shudder as she cries. Her head is buried in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. Though she’s initially embarrassed about losing it like this, she can’t deny it feels good to for once be able to let go of control. To let someone hold her, and not worry about being too much, or too weak. She finally can let her guard down completely, let someone’s love cover her for a second as she breaks. He kisses the crown of her head, his hands rubbing slow circles on her back.

“Darling, you’re breaking my heart.”

“They’re not bad tears.” She sniffles, not realizing how tight she’s holding him until she tries to move and feels her arms ache. “I’m just relieved, you know?”

“I _do_ know.” He whispers, urging her head up so he can look into her eyes. “I love you.” He says it again, and she knows he can see the way her eyes light up.

She blinks twice, sniffling once more as she looks up into his bright blue eyes. She moves the tiniest bit, about to give into her desire to kiss him, when it hits her.

“Friends first.” She breathes against his lips.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, the word sounding like one large breath. “How about we go home and just relax for a bit?”

She nods while wiping her eyes one last time. Just when she thought she was getting her feelings under control, Blake made sure that he’d be all she’d think about tonight. She wishes things could be simpler for them, but she feels a bit more hopeful as she thinks about tonight’s events. Between Anyone Else coming out soon, and the admission they both let each other in on, she can see them going into the right direction.

She just hopes the wait won’t kill her.

*

It’s not until the next day that the awkwardness of the situation remerges. He figured they’d gotten most of the awkwardness out of the way yesterday, but apparently, there was still too much tension for either one to make sense of.

He watches her as she slowly twists her fork into the bowl of spaghetti, the silence around them only a _little_ alarming.

Blake had finished most of the dinner prep while Gwen was showering and when she came back, the Bolognese was already simmering away on the stove. He watches as she takes a full bite of her pasta, waiting a few beats until she swallows her mouthful.

“How is it?” Blake asks from across the table.

“Good.” She replies quietly, biting her lip while keeping her eyes on her plate.

He takes another bite. “I used some extra tomatoes to fill out the sauce, since there’s no meat.”

She looks up at him then, appreciation flickering in her gaze, pared with a bit of uneasiness; he hates how obvious it is that he’s mostly trying to make conversation to ease out the awkwardness. Her reluctance to answer causes his mind to go down a spiral; he stares at her quizzically, his heart thrumming in his chest. 

Did he do too much? Should he not have said these three words back to her yet? Was he wrong for asking her to set the dinner table like they’ve done this a million times over?

“Everything okay?” He asks, though he can see that it isn’t.

It dawns on him that after the conversation they’ve had in the studio, she was okay with her interactions up until they got home. It’s like they’re good when they’re in the studio—at _work_—but the moment there’s only silence, only them together in the privacy of her home, with no distractions, she clams up.

“Gwen?” He presses.

“Yeah I…” She looks down at her plate again, searching for the right excuse. “I’m just tired.” She says absently, and he knows she’s thinking back to the moment she jumped into his arms, confessing her love for a man she probably wishes she could forget. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can clean up.” He offers, knowing it’s not all she needs, but if he can give her some proper time to rest and time to come to terms with things by taking the dishes off her hands, he figures it’s worth the try. “Maybe some good night’s sleep will do you some good.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the unfamiliar territory of handling Gwen when she feels like this, or if it’s his own past heartbreak panicking about a future one, but it suddenly seems easier to put some distance between them.

“No, let me.” She starts to say, her body already pushing herself off the chair. Her hand reaches for his empty plate, her eyes silently asking him if it’s okay. “I’ll do it. Gives me something to be busy with.”

Though he doesn’t necessarily agree with letting her do it, he’s also aware there’s no point in fighting her on it. It’s been hard enough getting her to butt out of making dinner, letting him take care of her has always been something she struggled with. He decides not to make it harder.

“I’m gonna take a shower then.” Blake says softly, taking a few moments to watch her rummage around in the kitchen. “You sure you don’t need me to help with anything?”

She nods without turning around to face him. “It’s fine. Go shower. I’ve done the dishes before, you know?”

There’s a hint of playfulness in her voice, but he finds it hard to mark it as genuine. If anything, it seems like she’s trying too hard to make it sound friendly.

He nods. “Okay, well you know where to find me.”

“In the shower.” She quips smartly, turning around to give him a wink.

He chuckles quietly under his breath, shaking his head.

“Right.”

He leaves her behind in the kitchen, actually looking forward to having a few sacred minutes to himself. The warm sprays of water falling down his back do a good job of easing some of the tension out of his bones, a deep breath passing his lips. He lets the warmth cover him like a blanket, finally feeling the chilliness he used to feel inside the walls of his own home becoming a distant memory.

He likes being here, probably more than he should. He likes Gwen more than he should, too. Yet he can’t find it within himself to truly regret it—Gwen has reminded him of what love should be, even if they could never be together.

He thinks back to the few times he’d had the pleasure of feeling her lips on his, or her small body pressed against him. The memory has him involuntarily licking his lips.

He re-emerges from the bathroom a short while later, cotton towel wrapped around his hips, his curls flattened and unruly by the way he rushed the towel over them. It felt good to just relax for a few minutes, though his mind couldn’t help but go over his situation with Gwen. He still feels a bit flushed by the sheer intensity of his feelings for her, and the routes his mind decided to go down in the confinement of her shower. Because of that, it’s even more of a shock to see Gwen perched on the edge of his bed, her back to him as she seems a bit apprehensive about being here.

“If I’d known you’d be here, I would’ve gotten dressed back there.” Blake chuckles, referring to the bathroom, realizing there was no way he could've snuck back in unseen.

She turns around softly, her eyes sparkling with something as she takes in his barely covered form.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier.” She says, explaining her presence in the guest room.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He brushes off quickly, grabbing a clean t-shirt from the chair closest to him and putting it on swiftly. “I just want to know if you’re okay.”

She remains silent, staring at him.

“Are you?” He asks.

“Am I what?”

“Okay?”

He moves closer to the bed, completely forgetting about the towel still around his waist. Gwen’s gaze reminds him soon enough, as her eyes linger just a tad too long on his hips. He fights the smile that threatens to break out on his face, as he awaits her answer.

“It’s just all so weird.” She admits softly, her eyes moving back up to his face. “I didn’t expect to feel everything that I do. It scares me sometimes.”

Her honest answer sobers him up, his legs carrying him to the other end of the room, trying to find some pants.

“I get that.” He replies, a pair of sweats hanging over his forearm. “I didn’t mean to— “

“—You didn’t do anything wrong.” She cuts off, smiling. “I like the fact that you weren’t afraid to say it back, you know?”

He can’t help but smile at that, standing like a fool in front of her.

“You should probably…” She trails off, eyes again catching onto the towel around his waist.

“_Yeah_.” Blake nods quickly, motioning towards the bathroom. “Give me a sec. Don’t move.”

He’s surprised to see her nod, as the softly spoken demand wasn’t exactly supposed to leave his lips so determinedly. He walks back into the secluded bathroom, getting dressed as quickly as possible, before finishing up on some personal hygiene. He registers from back in the room that the door hasn’t closed yet, meaning Gwen’s still there. He feels a bit desperate at the way his ears strain to make sure she’s not leaving, but it’s just what this woman does to him.

Walking back in the room, Gwen’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, not having moved an inch. He takes her in for the first time; her hair loose, her tank top and small pyjama bottoms making her look like she’s in her early twenties, the no-make up look she’s rocking making her that much more divine-looking.

“You look great.” He says, unable to keep the compliment to himself.

She blushes as he sits down next to her, the bed dipping slightly.

“Thanks, cowboy.”

He’s suddenly aware of how close they’re sitting, the real reason for why she’s here right now not quite clear to him. He finds himself torn between wanting to ask and being afraid that it will make her leave.

“I can literally see you thinking, Blake.” She chuckles, her eyes already on him, and _of course_ she figured him out already.

Blake shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck as he watches Gwen sit comfortably next to him.

“It’s not that I mind, I just…. _uh_, are you planning on hanging around here?”

It’s not hard to miss the way Gwen’s smile slightly falters. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No.” Blake replies quickly, feeling the air leave his lungs. “I just…. I don’t quite understand why you’re in here, I guess.”

Gwen’s pretty lips curve up again, making breathing slightly easier again for Blake.

“I already told you why.”

“To apologize, yes.” He nods, deciding to call her on her bullshit this time. “While I’m half naked, coming out of the shower?”

Her eyebrows raise, obviously not expecting the question. He’s slightly impressed with himself for having the balls to go there tonight.

“I didn’t know— “

“You didn’t hear the shower running?”

He hears her breath catch, and he almost feels bad for putting her on the spot like this.

“I didn’t come in here until I stopped hearing the shower.” She says defensively. “I figured you’d get dressed in there. I didn’t….” She trails off, her eyes looking at him a bit hopelessly. “If you don’t want me in here, you can just say so.”

“It’s not that.” Blake says immediately, the brief moment of weakness dissolving in an instant. “I’m just saying, for someone who’s _this_ scared of going there, you’re being quite transparent.”

He says the words before he realizes they’re coming out of his mouth, the look on Gwen’s face showing him what he already knows; he hit a nerve.

She flies off the edge of his bed, raking a hand through her hair.

“This is insane, Blake. I just came in here to apologize, make sure we were good. The only thing _obvious_ is that we’re not.”

She turns around to leave, but Blake’s hand stops her quickly, holding onto her upper arm.

“Wait a second.” He sputters, standing in front of her, not really blocking her way, but making it clear he’s not done yet. “I don’t want to fight with you, not anymore.”

His features soften, hoping to ease the tension quickly, though Gwen doesn’t seem as fast to comply.

“Things have been weird ever since we left the studio.” She says, her voice subdued.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He answers.

“How could it _not_ be?” She looks at him sideways, shaking her head. “We’re trying to work on our friendship and instead we declare our love for each other?”

“Friends love each other too, you know.” Blake cuts in, realizing his hand is still holding on to her arm. He lets a few silent beats linger between them before breaking their touch.

“Is that how you meant it?” She asks, holding his gaze. “As a friend?”

Blake chuckles under his breath, not quite knowing what to say. He doesn’t want to lie to her, he doesn’t want to be _that_ person, though a small part of him believes she deserves it for asking the question in the first place.

“I wish you wouldn’t ask me that.” Is all he ends up saying.

She nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You know I didn’t.” He refers to her earlier question.

He figures honesty is the only way he can answer such a pointed question with.

He watches something in her eyes light up at his answer, her teeth biting down hard on her bottom lip. It’s crazy how easy it would be right now for them to say screw it—literally. It would take less than two steps to back her up against edge of the bed, one firm push of his hand to have her lying on it. He scratches the place behind his ear, trying to come up with a way to save them from their own desires.

“We’ve had a weird day today.” He says, as if it can justify the moment they’re currently having. “Tomorrow we’ll laugh about it.”

She chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Blake affirms with a big grin, his hand nudging her shoulder. “I actually think that’s what friends are for, buddy. Whatd’ya say, you wanna have an old-fashioned sleepover? Play some scrabble?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

He feels a bit unsteady suddenly, the heat he was trying to dissolve with easy banter, brought back by Gwen’s cheeky response. His hands once again itch to pull her closer to him, and he knows there’s no point in fighting what Gwen is so determined to keep going tonight.

“Are you enjoying this right now?” He speaks to her in barely a whisper, holding her gaze as it heats up his body to an uncomfortable extent.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you want me to answer that.” She admits honestly.

He takes one step closer to her, not surprised at all when she takes zero steps back.

“I think you should leave.”

His breath is ghosting over her lips, and Christ almighty when he did he get to stand _this_ close to her?

“Yeah.” Is her soft answer, the reply mostly breath. “I just—_yeah_.”

She doesn’t make a move to leave though, and Blake’s patience is slowly running out. He bites his tongue, one of his hands slipping into his back pocket. Her dark brown eyes looking at him so willingly makes him imagine her body clinging to his in the most desperate ways; her voice exclaiming the soft sounds of his name until they’re both out of breath.

When he recognizes his own desperation mirrored on her face, he snaps.

“Gwen.” He grunts lowly.

“Yeah.” She says, this time more loudly, seemingly understanding what his short mention of her name meant. She finally brings herself to walk a few steps away from him, Blake’s heart nearly beating out of his chest. “See you tomorrow.”

The words sound ridiculous, but he doesn’t blame her for not knowing how to break this moment. He nods without giving her a verbal answer, not trusting his voice right now. She doesn’t pressure him for more either. Instead, she walks out as quick as she probably should’ve done minutes ago.

It’s impossible to fall asleep later, the tossing and turning reaching an atrocious level. He thinks about how easy it would be to get lost in her; one well-placed touch and he’d be coming undone. He knows what they could have together would be searing and endless and as much as he’s fighting it, damn it he _wants_ it.

Wants her.

He’s slightly aggravated by the way she kept baiting him tonight, the mixed signals doing nothing to help his state of mind. Though he knows what she _really_ wants, it’s hard to keep his body in check with both their minds running wild.

He’s in _her_ home, _her_ space. The least he could do is be their voice of reason.


	15. To Be The One You Gave Your Heart To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake will be faced with some turmoil in the next few chapters. It will make Blake and Gwen's connection stand out even more.

“How do you feel about the success of Anyone Else?”

Blake’s eyes couldn’t light up more if he tried, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip while looking at the interviewer sitting across from him. He waves with his hand to indicate his point, elaborating excitedly.

“Oh my gosh, it’s insane. I never thought I’d have a song like this, let alone have it do this well. I never like to think about numbers and charts, but I can’t lie and say this doesn’t feel damned good to see at number 1.”

“How about you, Gwen? Is this what you expected when you came out here to write with this guy?”

Blake’s gaze finds her immediately, a sense of pride and adoration lingering there.

“I didn’t know _what_ to expect.” She says while holding Blake’s gaze, smiling. “I knew from the moment we started working together that he’s a very gifted artist, though. I always knew this was a possibility.”

She means every word, but she feels even better about speaking them when Blake visibly gets flustered. Out of all the looks she’s come to love from him, this must be somewhere on the top of her list.

“She’s being modest.” Blake smiles, his hand quickly rubbing her shoulder before landing back in his lap. “I couldn’t have made this song without her; Gwen is the driving force behind most of these new songs I’ve been working on.”

She would blush if this weren’t the third interview they’ve done today, all three consisting of these types of praises from Blake. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least, doing press, and being in front of the camera _with_ him, something she didn’t anticipate anytime soon. If at all.

She’s grateful Blake’s so attentive to her, because the moment this interview ends, he’s pulling her aside for a little moment to their selves.

“You okay? I know you’re not used to all this.” His soft voice speaks to her, his back leaning against the wall, while his hand holds onto her shoulder.

She looks around the premises, the place empty and soulless, a studio definitely meant for interviews and photoshoots only. The number of cameras in the backstage area making her slightly uneasy.

“Yeah.” She nods at him sweetly, enjoying the way he holds on to her. “Thanks for checking up on me, cowboy.”

He grimaces a bit, his fingers kneading into the soft skin on her shoulder.

“That nickname is gonna stick, huh?”

She nods, smiling brighter. “Oh, you bet.”

He shrugs. “If that’s what makes you happy.”

There’s so much she could say to that, she ends up on saying nothing at all.

“Only one more interview. You wanna go do something normal afterwards?”

Her brows raise, her body turning into him more.

“Normal?” She quips.

“Yes.” Blake affirms. “Go see a movie, drive out to the lake, hang out with some buddies. You tell me.”

It’s that type of sentiment she loves so much about him. The fact that he will go out of his way to make her feel comfortable, to remind her of the things that aren’t scary and so far out of her comfort zone. It’s an interesting push and pull they have; their whole relationship is about pushing each other out of their comfort zone, but there’s an undeniable familiarity they both shower each other with daily.

“What do you usually do to unwind?” She asks, feeling too indecisive to come up with a suggestion of her own.

He grins a bit pained. “Drink.”

She nods, her hand patting his arm as she shows her support. She’s happy to know it’s been weeks since he’s had his last drop, and though he wasn’t yet at the point where they truly had to worry, it’s nice knowing he doesn’t feel the need to drown his sorrows anymore.

“Nothing else?” She tries.

“Hunt, fish, go back home. Be around nature.”

“Okay.” She says affirmatively. “Uhm, do you wanna do that?”

Now it’s his turn to raise his brows. “Go home?”

She nods, afraid that he’s gonna laugh at her for even bringing it up. She knows it’s crazy to leave town at the same time his promotion has kick started, but they’re both seemingly grasping for something to return them back to that simple kind of life.

“You wanna come with?”

It would be so easy to back out now, retreat into her fears and let him do this alone, but something about the way he asked made her hopeful.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want.”

“I do.” He answers quickly, leaving no room for doubts. “God Gwen, are you sure?”

She nods excitedly, her smile threatening to split her face in two. “Of course.”

“We could leave as soon as tomorrow. I just need some time to update my manager and make sure it doesn’t mess with our upcoming plans for next week.”

“Sure. I’ll just follow your lead on this.”

It’s true too, not just for the trip, but this whole day. It’s unlike her to depend on someone’s guidance this much, but with so many ‘firsts’, she’s feeling just a little unstable.

Once again, Blake seems to get her without too many words, his hand urging her forward.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road one last time.”

*

Her dreams as a little kid were always much more innocent than this; she wanted to make music, create a happy place for people, get married, have four kids by the age of 26. She never thought about the added pressures of fame, or her name in shining lights. It wasn’t until much later that she figured that the stage was her place to be. She wanted to be at the front of people’s attention center, she wanted to have the spotlight on her long enough to transcend people to a different place. She’s not a power-hungry person at all, but the thought of having a group of strangers get so invested in the art that she works so hard to create, sends a buzzing sensation all the way up her spine.

She never imagined her first tastes of real fame would come from writing with a country singer. She never thought she’d have this moment here with Blake either; the talk about the song they wrote together and Blake’s impressive resume in the world of country music, has her feeling slightly light-headed. She’s grateful Blake’s still taking the lead on all these conversations, even when this one proves to be more difficult.

The man in front of them has done his research, for sure. There’s something about the way he presents his questions though, that catches Blake off guard sometimes. Blake glances over at her every now and then, trying to gauge her reaction, finding a satisfied smile directed at him each time.

“Does this mean you will be writing more on this upcoming album?” The guy asks, looking at Blake as if he just got forced to ask the question.

“Totally.” Blake replies, ignoring the impending awkward stares and feel of the overall interview, doing his best at keeping things light and charismatic. “I’m still gonna be the fun guy, not take myself too seriously, but the fans deserve a bit more insight into the person I am underneath it all.”

“Scary at all?” The interviewer asks.

“At first.” Blake nods. “I think Gwen has helped me tremendously with shredding that last bit of hesitation and ignite that feeling of just wanting to go for it, y’know?”

He looks over to her again and he seems less than surprised to see her already staring back. It’s a brief moment of adoration that’s shared so openly, she has to remind herself of that before she can get caught with heart eyes.

“You’re obviously seeing great success with Anyone Else right now.” The interviewer speaks matter of factly. “Is it weird releasing a song that’s so transparent? Everyone kind of knows what it’s about, _who_ it’s about.”

Gwen’s eyes shoot up to the side of Blake’s face, trying to see whether the question will get a rise out of him. She’s relieved to see nothing but professionalism on his features, no trace of reluctance there when he answers.

“Going through a public break up is always weird. I think writing songs about it is pretty much what we’re paid to do as artists. I think that’s the one quality the two of us will always respect about each other.”

Gwen’s eyes dance, the pride she feels for Blake in this moment bubbling comfortably in her chest. She’s always known Blake could be incredibly articulate, quite the smooth talker.

“Is this transparency in your new music gonna address any of the infidelity rumours out there? Any apology songs perhaps, trying to win her back?”

It takes Gwen a while to register the true meaning of the interviewer’s words. The initial shock came from the guy being brazen enough to go there in the first place. It dawns on her later that he’s not talking about Miranda’s infidelity, but instead is implying _Blake’s_. His silence at the question stuns her even more; Blake either spoke his way out of things or resorted to a slight temper. She’d never experienced this stunned reaction from him before.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to go into the details of what happened, that being something between Miranda and I. I won’t go there in the music or _here_ with you, to be quite honest.”

Blake managed at concealing the worst surprise and anger, but he couldn’t fool Gwen. She feels her own heart jumping against her chest, feeling another surge of shock wash over her when the guy doesn’t drop it just yet.

“I understand. It’s quite the conversation in the country community, as I’m sure you understand, though. Do you think it’s fair to say that a smear campaign against Miranda would be low, after what happened?”

Her heart does a little flip in the worst way. She wasn’t even aware of the rumours out there stacking against Blake. Whether Blake knew about this or not is impossible to read from the way he struggles to keep his composure. She can tell he’s torn between saying too much to defend himself or keeping quiet, and Gwen’s heart breaks a little at the current disrespect he’s facing.

“Blake and I have worked on a lot of songs, that are gonna do all the talking for him. I’ve never seen an artist deal with personal turmoil in such a classy, effective way. I think if people wanna focus on anything, it should be on that.” Gwen speaks determinedly, turning her head to the interviewer, eyes ablaze. “That aside, I think it’s in very poor taste to bring false rumours up during a professional interview. There’s too much negativity out there as it is, we should all try not to add to that.”

She can tell it takes Blake a while to compose himself after her little speech, his brain more than a little rattled by the strange course of events.

“I totally get what you’re saying, but the word on the street— “

“Like we’ve said before, we’re not discussing any false narratives or rumours.” Gwen interrupts with a quickness that causes Blake to look at her gratefully. “If we can’t move on from the subject, we’re gonna have to cut this conversation short.”

There are a few beats of silence that both scare and unnerve her. She didn’t mean to take the lead on Blake’s conversation, but judging by the look on his face, he’s more than relieved that she did.

“Of course, I apologize.” The guy starts to say, backtracking only a little. “You know what, I think we’ve gone over everything. I wanna thank you guys for your time.”

The rather small man stands up quickly, not even attempting at shaking their hands before briskly disregarding the clipped-on microphone. It’s less than thirty seconds before he’s made his way out of there, the few muttered apologies from his team and camera crew following suit. Gwen’s eyes are glued on Blake, waiting for any type of reaction.

It comes in the form of an eyebrow raise. “What the hell was that?”

Gwen releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, giving him a clueless look.

“I don’t know. God Blake, I’m so sorry.”

Blake looks at her softly. “Why are you apologizing? You said everything I wish I could in that moment, so thank you. Everything you said….”

“Everything I said was the truth. I don’t know where that guy got his information from or who convinced him it was alright to bring them up, but he was _way_ outta line.”

Blake swallows roughly. “I wanted to fucking punch that guy.”

“I don’t blame you.” Gwen chuckles softly. “I kinda did too.”

He smiles a bit wider then, giving her an amused look.

“It bothers me that people see her as country’s sweetheart still. I probably shouldn’t feel that way, and maybe I sound like the biggest ass, but I wish they’d see her true colours.”

Gwen nods. “That doesn’t make you sound like an ass, Blake. That just makes you sound human.”

Blake face scrunches.

“I just can’t believe that guy sat right in front of my face…bringing up the cheapest, most ridiculous tabloid material and expected me to answer him.”

She can hear the anger rising in his voice again, and she knows it will do them both the most good to get out of here.

“He was just trying to bait you. And it didn’t work! You kept it classy and you didn’t let him antagonize you—that’s the one thing people are gonna take away from this when they see it. He played himself.”

Blake seems to struggle catching on to her words, and she can’t blame him for being reluctant. Nothing looks like he’s gonna have it easy in the public eye for the time being, but he does seem grateful for her positivity.

“Let get out of here.” Gwen says abruptly, pushing herself up into a standing position and holding her hand out to Blake. He grabs it with determination, allowing her to pull him up.

His hand squeezes her arm quickly, probably not wanting to publicly draw too much attention to them, but still finding a way to show his everlasting gratitude.

“Thank you for sticking up for me just now, Gwen.” He speaks softly enough for only her to hear. “I don’t think anyone’s ever gone to bat me for me this publically.”

She doesn’t exactly know what to say in reply to that, stuck on the fact that it sounds like he’s never had anyone truly support him in the way that he deserves.

“You’ve got me.” She nods, fighting the urge to seal her promise with a kiss. “In private _and_ in public.”

*

It had been a bit strange to find their footing again after coming home. Blake’s idea was to hide himself away for the remaining of the day, spend time with Gwen in the safe confinement of her home. It’s different to experience Blake in a more subdued manner, and it forces Gwen to continue the assertiveness she showed today. She’s happy that she managed to be there for him in a moment where Blake seemed incapable of pushing his own needs forward.

The rumours the interviewer brought up earlier today weigh heavy on her mind; she’s never had to deal with fame, so the whole idea of having false narratives being spread about him in the news, have her feeling anxious for him. She tries to distract them with the prospect of their trip to Oklahoma, having promised to drive with Blake to his place later tonight, to pack some stuff and keep him company while he faces his demons there.

She wonders if things will be even harder for him after today’s events.

They don’t talk about it today. They talk about dinner, lean against each other on the couch while Blake introduces her to a few episodes of Golden Girls. She enjoys the normalcy of it, even though she can still sense his presence is tinged with a bit of sadness. She wishes she could cut through that layer of pessimism, show him that positivity is imbedded in his soul and will always find its way out—even in the darkest of days. She lets him talk about everything else that has nothing to do with what happened, but is determined to keep his mind from sinking further into the mine that has claimed him in the past.

She gives him a solid ground to steady himself on. It looks like the worst has worn off by the time they finally move from the couch again; feeling a bit more hopeful.

If only the feeling could last.

The phone call came an hour after Blake texted his manager about their travel plans. They’d opted to go out for some groceries, deciding on doing meal prep together today. The call had put a halt to their movements and dent in their plans, as she finds herself standing a bit sheepishly on her doorstep.

Her car keys are still dangling in her hands, while the tall cowboy next to her seems to contemplate his next words.

“Are you okay?” Blake asks, his voice just a whisper as he takes in her startled form.

His hand touches her shoulder to ground her, as she looks at him in stunned silence. She shakes her head, her lip caught between her teeth.

“No, no Blake. I just, this is….” She shakes her head again, the words coming out as shaky breaths. “This isn’t normal, right? Has he ever called you and whoever you were writing with over for an emergency meeting?”

“No.” He answers her honestly, his voice stable. “But you’re also the first person I’ve truly been writing with, Gwen. I’ve only ever cut songs that were sent to me.”

“Not the point.” She quips, continuing to gnaw a hole in her lip. “You told him you were taking me away for a weekend and he’s obviously thinking it’s a horrible idea.”

He leans a bit closer to her, urging her head up with a low sound coming from the back of his throat.

“I don’t give a damn about that.” Blake mutters, holding her gaze. “We’re friends, plus we’re adults. There’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone decide what I can and can’t do when it comes to my personal life.”

“This can interfere with your career.”

“I don’t really see how.” Blake replies pointedly, trying to dead the argument quickly.

Gwen’s determined to get it out of the way now.

“He’s your manager, Blake. He’s supposed to look out for your business and he’s putting us both on the spot by calling us over there.”

Blake shrugs. “If he’s afraid it might spark some rumours, I’m gonna say fuck it. Hell, false rumours are already out there, aren’t they? Who cares about a few more? At least this one won’t be as far from the truth.”

His words feel good to bathe in for a second, but she won’t allow herself to get her hopes up about anything. She knows it’s a strange move to visit his home back in Oklahoma, considering the break-up news of him and Miranda only having been out for a few weeks. He’s under a microscope more than ever now, the chances of a trip like this leaking to the press are more than plausible. But Blake wants to spend time with her away from here, at a place where he feels most at home—it almost sounds too good to be true.

Maybe it is.

A part of her feels like she owes it to herself to at least try, though. She and Blake have had nothing but tough breaks so far; the thought of enjoying some downtime away from the madness, surrounded by nature, is a prospect she can’t turn down without a fight.

“Let me handle the conversation, okay?” Blake interrupts her inner monologue, looking at her sweetly. “He’s my manager, I’ll deal with him.”

She gives him a small smile, nodding once.

“I still can’t believe this is happening. He was supposed to like me. He’s supposed to feel like he made the right decision by pairing us up—not regret me.”

“He doesn’t regret you, Gwen.” Blake says almost immediately, the words seemingly striking him as ridiculous. “But I’m gonna give him the most hell for even causing you to think that for a split second.”

“Blake…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.” He responds to her unspoken question, smiling.

“Don’t fight with him.” She returns, squinting.

“I won’t say or do anything he doesn’t deserve.” Blake replies confidently, the sound of determination and frustration enough to have Gwen second-guessing that statement. “But it’s time for people around me to understand they don’t have a say in handling me and my loved ones. We’re _going_ on that trip.”


	16. I Need My Girl, I Need My Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it might be helpful to know a bit more information about the timeline:
> 
> \- It’s been about 2 months since Blake and Miranda broke up.  
\- It’s been three weeks since it’s been released to the media.  
\- Blake’s been staying with Gwen for 2 weeks now
> 
> Just a little side information =)

Her posture was way off; nerves radiating off her while she kept her eyes firmly at the ground. She hadn’t looked at him at all during their drive over here, and every one of his attempts to ease her discomfort seemed to result in doing the opposite. He didn’t even have the conversation with his manager yet, and he already felt furious.

It’s hard enough for them to find stable ground, trying to build a lasting thing with every roadblock they’ve encountered so far, without his manager now butting in too. He knows Gwen feels burdened and as much as he would love to take away that feeling, he knows there’s no way he can truly do that. Truth is, to his manager, she probably _is_ a burden.

Brandon is close enough to him to notice the change in him. Gwen is making him care less about the gimmicks of the industry; when it comes to her, he just wants real. He doesn’t want to act like someone else anymore, he doesn’t want to play a part any longer. He wants to be Blake Shelton for the first time in probably ever.

Not caring about whether that will sell or not.

His mind is made up about the trip and he can only hope that his determination will convince Gwen to feel the same way. His feet are heavy when he walks inside the house he’s been at a million times before, only this is the first time he’s absolutely dreading it.

Blake’s voice sounds rough as he drops his jacket on his friend’s couch.

“This better be good.” He says while staring daggers at his friend, Gwen walking right behind him as they enter the large house. Instead of answering right away, Brandon looks him up and down, just staring. “Listen…” Blake starts, trying to speed things along.

“What are you two doing?” Brandon cuts him off, giving him no time to answer. “Most importantly, what are _you_ doing? What’s this thing you’re telling me about a trip?”

Blake looks behind him at a pale-looking Gwen, her hands folded awkwardly at her sides. He looks back at his manager, feeling himself grow more agitated.

“I’m getting the hell out of here.” Blake answers pointedly, letting the words roll of his tongue smoothly. “And I’m taking my good friend with me.”

“Your good friend?” Brandon counters, a knowing look on his face.

“Yes.”

“You’re his friend?” Brandon asks directly at Gwen, looking past him completely.

Before Gwen can answer, Blake’s voice cuts through the silence again. “I don’t see how that would be any of your business, to be honest.”

His manager looks at him as if he just grew two heads, his hands balling into fists.

“Do you understand under how much scrutiny you are right now?” Blake looks away, but his friend doesn’t seem to care. “I’m not saying this to upset you or to control you, but taking a trip with the girl you’ve been openly doing press with, is the most horrible idea ever.”

Blake shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with my career.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” His friend snaps. “You’re finding yourself in the middle of a thousand rumours, most of them not positive. You really think the fans are gonna take a liking to you parading your new girlfriend around, weeks after losing your fiancée?”

Blake looks back at him again, glaring furiously. “I’m not _parading_ anyone around, besides, I don’t give a crap about what other people think about this.”

“Your song just hit number 1, people are incredibly curious to see what you have to say. You don’t want to lose credibility now, Blake. _Trust_ me.”

Blake once again looks over at Gwen, finding her uncharacteristic silence a bit unnerving, to say the least. He knows she’s been dreading this and it’s turning out to be as bad as she figured it would be.

“Listen man.” Blake says, trying to calm down. “Gwen’s important to me and I’m gonna take the trip, whether you like it or not.”

“And what are you gonna tell people when this ‘trip’ hits the tabloids?”

“The same thing I’m telling you.” Blake replies. “That it’s none of their business.”

“You really haven’t learned anything from the mess you _just_ got out of?” Brandon asks, shaking his head.

Something inside him snaps at the reference, his whole body shaking with the force of his anger. He takes a few strides forwards, towards his manager, stopping right in front of his face. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’m looking out for you in the way _you_ never do, in the way you _pay_ me to do!”

“The last time I listened to you, I ended up agreeing to faking my relationship on national television, whoring myself out for the sake of a song.”

“And now you’re whoring yourself out for the sake of a rebound, is that really what you want?”

He’s a second away from hitting his long-time friend and manager in the face, when Gwen’s small hand wraps around his bicep. She forces him to take a step back, wincing at the anger on his face. He wants to tell her to let go, push her aside and release his anger on the person who deserves it, but something about the way she’s looking at him makes him think twice.

“Blake, calm down. I know it’s not ideal, but he’s not all wrong.”

Still too angry to speak properly, he glares at her.

“What?”

“Look…” She says, turning around to face Brandon. “We’ll be discreet. I know how much is at stake and I’m not here to interfere with his career at all. We’re just friends, and that’s even more than people are entitled to know.”

There’s a part of him that’s surprised she still even wants to take the trip, and it makes him feel warm enough inside to not get stuck up on the ‘friends’ part.

Brandon nods. “I don’t have anything against you, Gwen. I just— “

“You’re looking out for him.” She replies, looking back at Blake. Her hand is still on his arm, keeping him from losing it completely. “I get that.”

“He’s finally making the music _he_ wants to make, he’s one song away of establishing himself as one of country’s top contenders. I don’t want to watch him throw all that away for…” He looks at Gwen as if he doesn’t know _what_ to call her, and Blake winces. “Whatever this is.”

Blake huffs a sigh. “I’m so sick and tired of people pretending like this is all there is. What about my life? I like Gwen.”

“Blake.” Gwen says softly, but he doesn’t listen to her gentle interruption.

“I like Gwen, and I want to spend as much time as I can with her. You’re gonna tell me that’s wrong because some people are forever gonna be stuck on what they _think_ Miranda and I once had?”

“It’s not stupid to keep it in mind, Blake.” Brandon replies casually, still not ready to let his argument go. “I’m not saying forever, but for the time being—it wouldn’t be so crazy to lay low for a bit.”

He hears the words, but his response doesn’t answer his question.

“Not what I asked.” Blake says pointedly, ignoring the pleading gaze from Gwen. “Do you think it’s wrong for me to want to be around someone like Gwen?”

He can feel her fingers curl around his bicep again, but this time she’s not interrupting. If anything, she’s looking at Brandon as if she wants to hear his answer even more than Blake does.

“I want what’s best for you.” Brandon clarifies. “I want you to be happy, too. I can tell that being around her is doing you a lot of good. All I’m asking is for you not to do that publicly.”

“You’re impossible.” Blake hisses. “And quite frankly, irrational too.”

“I could say the same about you, brother.” Brandon speaks, his impatience growing.

“This is not up for debate. If I have to choose my happiness or my career, I will never choose the latter.”

“When did you stop giving a damn?”

“When did you stop giving a damn about _me_?” Blake yells, shocking Gwen as she gapes at him.

Blake feels the anger everywhere, and it only just now hits him how badly he’s _hurt_ by this whole thing. He can understand his manager looking out for his career—as he’s supposed to do—but this man has been his friend for years. They always looked out for each other as people too. He feels like somewhere along the road, they’ve lost touch of that.

He can vaguely register Brandon talking to him, but everything is going right past him. Gwen’s hand on his arm tightens its hold, but even that’s something that doesn’t bring him back into the present. It’s not until Gwen determinedly gets in his face, cupping his cheeks, that he thrust backs into the here and now.

“Blake, are you with me?” She whispers, speaking to him so softly, it reminds him of the gentlest feeling in the world.

“I…I’m sorry, it’s….” He can’t form a sentence to save his life, but Gwen just smiles in understanding.

“You don’t have to.” She shakes her head softly, keeping her hands on the side of his face. “Just breathe.”

“I’ve given these people everything.” He says absently, not even caring about his friend standing a few feet away from him, hearing the conversation perfectly clear. “I just want…”

“You want them to be there for you.” She finishes for him, carding a hand through his hair. “You feel alone, I get that.”

“Just…” His voice is weak as fear courses through his body at an incredulous pace. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She shifts her position to hold onto his face a bit tighter, but he registers the movement as a sign of her starting to back away.

“Don’t, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Blake. Just breathe.”

He has no idea of what’s going on; the feeling he’s experiencing now something he hasn’t felt before. The feeling began like a cluster of sparks in his abdomen, spreading though his face, his limbs—the ground feeling like it could fall away from under him at any given moment. He craves the taste of alcohol more than anything right now, feeling the primal surge to flee.

“Blake?” He recognizes the voice as Brandon’s, and he doesn’t have to look at his friend to know it’s him who’s touching his arm now.

“Don’t touch me.” He grits out, still feeling anger bubble up in the midst of his panic.

He feels the hand on his arm back away, but his manager’s presence is still next to him. “I didn’t mean to spark all this, I just wanted— “

“To tell me what to do. I’m your ticket to success, that’s it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know a goddamn thing.”

He can see Gwen’s face constricting as she catches the pained look on his own face. He hates himself a little for not being able to be the strong one for her as he promised, and instead lets her soothe him.

“You should take the trip.” He hears Brandon relenting. “If that’s what you really want, I won’t stand in your way.”

If spoken ten minutes earlier, it would’ve been exactly what he wanted. Now—it feels strangely insignificant.

“I need to get the hell out of here.” Blake breathes, the words spoken directly at Gwen, his gaze still locked with her hazel brown eyes.

Gwen nods. “Okay, we can do that.”

He watches as she turns around to face Brandon, engaging in some last ditch effort to smooth things over, ease the worst tension. He’s glad she does, because he’s unable to shoot his friend as much as a look. It might be childish, it might be unfair, but he doesn’t want to engage in any conversation right now. He just wants to go home, be with Gwen.

He’s done doing right for those who will never find it to be enough. Even if that means losing everyone else around him.

*

Blake has been taking the conversation with his manager incredibly hard. She tried at getting him to ease off at some of the anger, but his mind was made up; he didn’t want to see or hear from his friend for the time being—and instead just wanted to focus on getting away and spending time with her.

She’d stopped trying to smooth things over between the two and gave over to the excitement she felt about going to Oklahoma with him. He’d helped her pack some stuff, but for the most part she wanted him to stay out of it. She’d also taken the many jokes he had for her when he realized how much she decided to take with her, considering they’re only going to be there for the weekend.

By the time they’re on the plane, she’s leaning onto his shoulder, much like they do at home when they’re watching TV together on the couch. She’s always cold and she smiles gratefully when Blake doesn’t even ask, just grabs the blanket from where it’s tucked underneath their seat and drapes her with it.

She tries to fall asleep, but her mind keeps reeling about being a few hours away from being alone with Blake for two full days. Her head keeps sliding off his shoulder as she starts dozing off a bit, and he chuckles when it happens for the fourth time. His hand moves to the side of her head, softly tucking some strands of hair behind her ear. His light grip on her keeps her from losing her place to lean on, the hard press of his shoulder beneath her making her sigh comfortably, his hold on her lulling her into light slumber.

Touching down on the ground, she holds onto his arm as he leads her down the tarmac, his truck already ready for them to jump into. He must’ve made some calls to make sure it was there upon their arrival or something, though she’s not quite sure about how all that works.

It’s about a thirty-minute drive, in which she drifts off a few times more. She didn’t even realize she was this tired, but between the conversation with his manager yesterday, the crazy press tour they did, and the energy it takes to travel, she’s coming up a bit empty. Luckily, Blake doesn’t seem to mind at all, his soft humming along to the radio making her smile even more as she staggers the line of unconsciousness.

She wakes up again when they’re passing his large ranch sign, her body pushing up into a more comfortable sitting position. Her eyes keep staring out of the window, everything she’s seeing so unfamiliar and exciting.

“You up, sleepyhead?”

She laughs, pointing at the large strips of nature leading their way.

“You own all of this?”

Blake smiles proudly, yet his voice is a bit bashful when he speaks.

“Yeah. I kinda save most of my money to buy ground. It’s a smarter and more meaningful investment to me, y’know?”

She nods. “It looks so beautiful, gosh Blake.”

Blake points over to the gravelly road in front of them, leading into the large driveway.

“Right there. We’re almost home.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. And I thought I’d seen plenty of mansions before. Like, I don’t even live in a small place, but this….” She shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

Her excitement hits a boiling point, as she keeps adjusting and readjusting her position in the passenger’s seat. Blake seems to realize this too, chuckling as the car slows down and he pulls off the main street leading into the house. He steals a few long glances in her direction before speaking.

“Still with me?”

Gwen looks over at him, her face taken over by her wide smile. “Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

Blake parks the car, getting her luggage from the trunk and slinging the bag over his shoulder. He waits for her to exit the vehicle as well, before walking up the patio steps.

It takes her a few seconds longer to spot the smaller car in front of the house. Her brows raise when Blake stops them from walking, shooting her an apologetic glance.

“Darling…”

Gwen shakes her head. “What? Whose car is that?”

Blake sighs. “Promise me you won’t freak out.”

The damage is already done, because her whole body suddenly starts to shiver, her face going from excitement into sheer panic mode. Blake looks down at the empty space between their hands and makes a split-second decision. Grabbing her hand, he shoots her a comforting smile, but the nerves are still raging wildly inside of her.

“It looks like you’re about to meet my mom.”


	17. Home Sweet Home

She fidgets back and forth in the kitchen, her nails nervously tapping against the marble countertop. Escaping here with Blake seemed like the most peaceful idea she's heard in years, but his mom suddenly showing up at his doorstep certainly drained some of the peace from her body.

The place she's currently finding herself in is breathtaking, though. The spacious ranch looks like something out of a country magazine, his decorations as tasteful as she would've expected. Blake had nearly blown her mind when he said he's still working on expansions and additions to the place. His success had surely paid off by now and it's much like Blake to want to spend it on this place. 

She's only ever been around guys who cared about cars, watches, anything that screamed status in a short amount of time. It was refreshing to be around someone like Blake; someone who cared more for the sentimental things, creating a safe place that would last for many years to come.

A soft hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present. The taste of peppermint in her mouth intensifies when the sight of Blake's mom behind her causes her to chew her gum out of a nervous habit. She smiles at the older woman friendly, her nail ticking onto the marble beneath it.

"Darlin', tell me Blake didn't tell you to hide out in here." Dot says, her hand immediately grabbing Gwen's, keeping her fingers from ticking nervously.

"No ma'am, I just wanted to get myself something to drink and I must've drifted off a bit." Gwen answers sheepishly.

"Blake didn't even get you anything? He just up and left?" Dot shakes her head, seemingly not pleased with her son at the moment. 

"The car got stuck in the mud on the way here." Gwen explains. "He went to move it somewhere safe. He'll be right back."

Dot's brows raise. "He came in with you, but said he needed to move the car afterwards?"

Gwen nods. "It's what he said."

His mom's expression goes from confused to dismissive, the statement obviously not a believable one to her. Gwen's ignorance about the country life made her not even second guess him.

"Well sweetheart, let me fix you some coffee. That way it gives me the opportunity to talk to you a little bit."

Gwen smiles as she lets the woman rummage through the kitchen cabinets to retrieve a glass. She's handed the hotly brewed coffee soon enough, cradling it between both palms. 

Her back is leaning against the counter, his mom standing closely beside her. "He's never brought a girl to Oklahoma this soon. You must be really special to him." His mother exclaims.

Gwen can't help the blush that colours her cheeks. 

"I think he really desperately needed a break from life in the fast lane." Gwen replies.

"And he needed you here to do that." His mom states.

The words cause Gwen to be rendered speechless, unable to come up with a smart reply. She looks at the older woman with a smile, and Dot seems completely aware of the state she just left the songwriter in.

“You’re good for him, I can tell.” His mom continues, squeezing her arm. “I haven’t seen my son this happy in years. He’s been struggling to hold on to a lot of things…” Her voice trails off and Gwen’s hanging on her lips now. “I’m just glad to see he still hasn’t lost himself.”

Gwen nods. “He’s a strong person.”

“Stronger than he gives himself credit for.” His mother affirms. “So are you. You _must_ be if you’ve been able to work with this guy for as long as you have. I know that couldn’t have been an easy start.”

Gwen laughs, curious about how much his mother knows about Blake’s reluctant stance against Hollywood.

“I think Blake realized rather quickly I had more going for me than just the place I come from.”

Dot nods strongly. “He needs a bit of an ass kicking sometimes.”

“I’ve come to realize that too.”

Both women laugh and Gwen feels validated enough in that moment; she might not know much about his mom yet, but the woman appears to take a liking to her so far.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, Gwen. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Gwen smiles. “The pleasure is all mine. I can totally see where he gets his charm from.”

Dot winks. “He’s _definitely_ got that from me.”

She laughs at the woman’s response, feeling even more excitement bubble up when she realizes they’re not alone anymore.

She feels herself exhale deeply when she spots him again, his face much more relaxed then it was when they first arrived. The ranch hat on his head hide his untameable curls and his black button down shirt is unbuttoned more than when she last saw him—she's sure.

He's wearing a smile that's both endearing and incredibly charismatic, and she hates how transparent she is in this moment. Dot smiles when she catches Gwen staring, but luckily doesn't make a comment.

"Can I steal her for just a moment please, mom?"

“Boy, where were you?” Dot asks semi-agitated, rubbing Gwen’s arm again. “You left that poor girl all alone without so much as offering her a drink.”

Gwen shoots him an apologetic glance, though she’s trying hard to keep the smirk off her lips.

“Sorry, I had something I had to take care of real quick.” He walks up to Dot and places a soft kiss on her cheek, before looking over at Gwen. “I hope my mom didn’t scare you into oblivion.”

The words are playful, but she can tell there’s a bit of worry there too.

“Not at all. We had a great conversation.” Gwen replies.

Dot smiles. “We did indeed, sweetheart. Blake, you better start being a better host.” Blake looks down at the ground a bit bashful, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at Gwen again. “I’ll call you again later, I’ve got to rush home and make dinner.”

Blake smiles. “Let me walk you out.”

“Oh don’t be silly.” His mom scolds him, and Gwen can’t help the chuckle that escapes her. Both Dot and Blake turn to look at her, and she can tell his mother is amused as well. “Make the girl some dinner, she must be starving. I’ll talk to you later.” She gives Blake another kiss on the cheek and pulls Gwen in for one last hug.

The moment they’re alone, they both burst out laughing. They end up heating up some leftover food in the fridge, talking about everything and nothing. It feels as domestic as things did back in Nashville, and she’s relieved to know they haven’t lost that here.

When they’ve cleaned up the kitchen as much as they could, Blake turns to Gwen, eyes lit up. She knows that look, knows he’s up to something and before she can even ask, he’s pointing at the kitchen cabinet above her head.

“Wine and chocolate. You like those?”

Gwen’s eyes widen. “Uhm, who doesn’t like those?”

Blake smiles. “Come on.”

He retrieves both items from the cabinet, before grabbing her hand. All his movements are so sudden, she can’t do anything but follow him blindly.

“Where are we going?” She asks sweetly, her curiosity not allowing Blake to simply tug her with him by hand, guiding them through the large house until they’re approaching his truck in the driveway. 

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“Blake.” She mewls in goodhearted protest. 

“You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

“I thought we were gonna eat chocolate and drink wine.”

Blake looks at her with a smile, holding the car door open for her.

“Who says we aren’t?”

Her brow raises as she settles herself into the passenger’s seat, catching Blake’s eyes before he closes the door.

“But you’re taking me out?”

Blake starts the ignition, putting the car in reverse as he gently tries to back out of the driveway, driving down the gravelly road that’s still part of his land— his property truly seems endless, as she keeps seeing more of it.

“Technically, I’m just taking you to a different part of my place. It’s not really taking you out.”

“Blake, please, where are we going?”

Her eyes scan her surroundings, the strip of woods and nature filling her with a sense of peace. Blake chuckles at her question, apparently amused by her lack of patience.

“Just a few more minutes.”

Realizing she’s not gonna get an answer out of him, she leans back into her seat and enjoys the view from inside the large truck. The road is uneven and muddy now, causing the car to hit a few bumps along the way. Blake mutters a quiet apology when she has to steady herself against the dashboard of the car. 

When the road smoothens out again, she’s almost in disbelief over what she’s seeing. The land stretching before her is solely decorated with dry soil, the acres of land here seemingly not as fertile as the nature that surrounds it. Both on her left and right she can see the beginnings of woods; trees and plants for days. But the strip right here in the middle has none of that. It’s gorgeous and secluded— a literal no-man’s land. 

“Oh my god...”

Blake smiles while putting the car in park.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn’t even discover this spot until way after I bought the land.”

Gwen looks at him in disbelief. “What is this place?”

“Usually, this is where I grow my crops. Right now it’s just a wide, open space though.” He laughs.

Gwen looks confused. “The ground looks dry. How do you grow anything here?”

“The less than average rainfall we’ve gotten so far has disturbed the soil quite a bit. We either wait for the weather to go our way again or give nature a hand by watering it ourselves.”

“That must look so pretty.”

Blake nods. “Next time, you need to come here again when they’re growing in the fields.”

“I’d love to.” She exclaims excitedly, biting her lip.

Blake pushes his door open, shooting her a large smile. “Let’s get out of here, I got something else to show you.”

Following Blake’s lead, she gets out of the car and walks up to him. He takes her hand again and she doesn’t stop him, she likes the feeling of her hand in his. He retrieves the wine and chocolate from the backseat, handing the latter to Gwen as she holds on to it with her free hand. She smiles when he tugs her with him again, as they walk a few steps along the hard ground beneath them. Blake comes to a sudden stop when they arrive at a wooden bench, Gwen’s brows shooting up again. 

“Okay I don’t know much about ranching and growing products, but I _know_ this bench couldn’t have gotten here naturally.”

Blake laughs loudly, kissing the top of her hand. 

“I had this placed here.” 

“Why?” She asks.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

He tugs her to sit down with him, and she does so immediately, seeking the warmth and comfort of the side of his body. They haven’t even been sitting for five minutes when she spots the beginnings of sundown, the purple and orange colours mixing making her gasp.

“Blake....”

“Told ya.” He smiles.

She shakes her head. “This is insane. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“The first time I saw it I damn near cried. It looked so peaceful, so unworldly. Sometimes you just need a reminder of how beautiful the world can be; I felt like if that wasn’t enough reason for me to place a bench here, nothing would be.”

“It looks like something out of a fairytale.”

Blake rubs the side of her shoulder, both their gazes directed at the gorgeous traces of dusk.

“It’s why I wanted to bring you out here.”

She looks at the side of his face, feeling her eyes getting watery as she thinks about how far they’ve come; experiencing this moment right now, much feeling like a reward for all the rocky moments.

“I’m so glad you did.”

“Can I pour you a glass?”

She nods fondly, smiling as he retrieves two large wine glasses from a bag underneath the bench.

She laughs. “Oh wow, you really came prepared, didn’t you?”

“Where else did you think I was going when I left you alone with my mom?”

She gasps. “Dot already said that you moving the car because of some mud was a weird story.”

Blake laughs loudly at that. “I was surprised you bought it, to be honest.”

Gwen pouts. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

“Aw sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Blake smiles, pouring her a glass before handing it to her. “I hope you can forgive me.”

She sniffs at the rim of her glass, the rich taste of expensive red filling her nostrils. 

“That remains to be seen.” She teases, though he’s already one hundred percent forgiven.

He pulls her back into his side, as she fits so perfectly in the crook of his body.

“Did you come here often with Miranda?”

For once, the question isn’t asked out of jealousy or worry, but solely because she wants to know more about his life before she came in it. Such a beautiful place like this one must hold many memories for him— memories she wants in on.

“Not really.” Blake answers softly, taking a small sip of his wine. “She didn’t like the ranch all that much. We spent most of our time in Nashville or at her folks’ place in Texas.”

“Who wouldn’t like this place?” Gwen asks genuinely confused. 

“I’m not sure.” He murmurs. “I think she thought it was boring. I was kinda afraid you might feel the same way, growing up in California and all.”

She moves her hand up his arm, squeezing. “It’s totally different from anything I’ve ever seen for sure, but oh my god, it’s so pretty. It looks like it literally never ends.”

Blake’s smile is the most beautiful things she’s ever seen as he takes in her words.

“You don’t mind the lack of modern civilization?” He asks playfully.

“I like the fact that it’s so far removed from everything else.” Gwen replies quickly. “I mean yeah, after like a week I’d probably miss some stores or the feeling of concrete beneath my feet... but for a little getaway, this is like a dream come true.”

“You’re amazing, Gwen. You know that?”

She blushes at the question, shaking her head while the hand that was squeezing his arm now gently slaps it.

“Stop trying to make me cry.”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’re a jerk.”

Blake laughs again and it fills her with more warmth than the wine gliding down her throat does. She feels beyond buzzed, sitting here with him and the alcohol has barely had time to have its effect yet.

“I haven’t felt this carefree in years.” Blake admits softly, his laughter dying down.

“Me neither.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Gwen nods, looking at him.

“What did you and my mom talk about?”

Gwen’s lips curve up, realizing that he must’ve been going out of his mind by not knowing. 

“She said that you’ve never brought a girl home this soon.” Gwen starts, taking in the soft expression on Blake’s face. “She said that you’ve been through a lot, but that she thinks I’m a nice girl. She was just being sweet.”

Blake smiles. “That was not her just being sweet.”

Gwen frowns. “What?”

“That was her giving her seal of approval.” Blake says softly. “Not that you necessarily needed it, but I know my mom.”

The words cause an eruption of butterflies to swarm her stomach, her eyes glued to his face.

“She doesn’t even know me.” Gwen whispers, shaking her head.

“But she knows me.” Blake counters. “She can tell the difference in me when I’m around you.”

“Different how?”

“More at ease, more calm.”

Her throat feels dry, the admissions coming from him both unexpected and incredibly raw.

“It scared me shitless when she was suddenly there when we got here.” Gwen chuckles, her voice a bit scratchy all the sudden.

“Me too.” Blake admits. “Sorry ‘bout leaving you alone, darling.”

“Yeah, that was really something.” 

“But I knew that if I came in with you, my mom wouldn’t let me go and I couldn’t prepare this right here.”

He knows how to save himself, because there’s no way she would’ve wanted to miss out on this.

“You’re gonna have to make it up to me some more, but this is a nice start.” She hears herself say.

Before she can freak out over her own words, Blake’s replying with wit of his own.

“Looking forward to it already, you just be ready.”

Goosebumps ride up her spine, the wine in her glass now halfway empty as she starts taking bigger sips. 

“You might wanna eat some chocolates if you’re going to down that stuff at such a pace...” Blake chuckles, referring to her glass. “You didn’t eat much dinner either, I don’t know how much you can handle on a near empty stomach. You’re tiny.”

His last sentence is said through a playful smile, and she wants to kiss that grin right off.

“I can hold my liquor just fine, cowboy.” She says pointedly, her finger waging in front of his face. “But I love chocolate, so I’ll never refuse an offer like that.”

She can feel him smile as she opens the box of sweets, her finger popping one of the chocolates out of its confinement and putting it in her mouth.

“These are good!” She says with a mouthful, causing Blake to laugh.

“They better be, damn things cost a fortune.”

She swallows the chocolate, before rolling her eyes. 

“We’re literally sitting on your ranch that you bought, and you’re bitching about affording a box of chocolates?”

Blake relents. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Here, taste one.” 

She offers a piece of chocolate to him, grinning when he pops it in his mouth entirely, just like she did before.

“Hmmm.” He says, eyes widening. “They really are good.”

“You did good.”

“Thank you.” He laughs.

They sit like that for hours; talking, eating, drinking. By the time they’re thinking about heading back, the sky’s absolutely dark and the night stars give it a gloomy glow.

“Is there more or did you eat it all?” Blake asks while shaking at the box in her lap.

She swats his hand away. “Mine.”

Blake shakes his head. “You’re really not gonna share anymore?”

“There’s only two left.”

“I bought them.” Blake reminds her playfully.

She looks at him quickly, biting her lip. She gives him her most seductive look, knowing full well he’s not gonna deny her anything.

“You’re not playing fair.” He whines.

Feeling too bad, she laughs while handing him another piece. Instead of taking it from her, he places his hand around her wrist and brings hers up to his mouth. His lips tug at the chocolate between her two fingertips, nipping at one of them just because. Her breath hitches, Blake’s tongue making one final sweep along her fingertip. 

“Thank you.” He smiles devilishly, releasing her wrist as he swallows.

If her throat was dry before, now it’s painful. She looks at him with wide eyes, her breathing sounding much heavier to her own ears. Gwen shivers at the expression on Blake’s face, passion and lust mounting to something so powerful she can’t wait to feel some of it. Her body feels eager to touch his, yet she stays perfectly still beside him.

She clears her throat, praying her voice will work. “How about we go back home?”

“Are you getting cold?” Blake asks, and she wonders if he’s actually this oblivious or if he’s just teasing her into spelling it out for him.

“No.”

“Too hot?”

And _ah_, there it is.

Blake’s always in tune with her feelings, and the mischievous smile he had on his lips earlier continues to linger. He knows exactly what she’s thinking and he wants her to say it.

“Wanna find out?” She quips innocently, priding herself for his expected reaction.

“Shit.” He grunts. “Let’s go.”

He takes her hand back into his, and she loves how even amidst throws of passion, he still wants to hold her hand in the most innocent fashion there is. She lets him lead them to car, the drive back to the house quiet and fast. Shoes and jackets are disregarded fast.

All the sudden, things slow down a bit, neither one knowing how to go about it.

Gwen bites her lip. “Follow me.”

Blake’s brow raises, his chuckle loud and clear behind her as she leads them towards his room, like she’s been here a million times before. She gets as far as ascending the stairs, before she’s considerably lost, her eyes searching for his a bit awkwardly.

“First one to your right.” Blake smiles.

His room is as large as she expected it would be, though she’s too lost in passion to take notice of his room the way she undoubtedly will later. She finds herself with her back pressed against the wall, Blake’s tall figure wasting no time in standing in front of her.

His eyes glare down at her, the passion radiating off him in waves, the intensity of his feelings right there on his face. She bites her lip in anticipation, not daring to move and risk the moment getting cut off. 

She’s debating making the first move when Blake’s hand comes to rest on the wall besides her head, caging her in. He steps just a little bit closer, his teeth digging a hole in his lip. 

“Blake.”

“Do you know what you do to me?” He rasps, keeping his voice as steady as can be. “What you make me feel? What you make me wanna do?”

His words cause a flood of arousal and hope to overwhelm her senses. Her chest heaves underneath the intensity of his stare, as she shakes her head.

“I don’t.” She whispers.

“Yeah you do.”

She fights the urge to reach out for his chest, the open buttons taunting her all day. 

“Do it.” Blake challenges, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just fucking do it.”

She can barely breathe, not remembering a time she ever felt this weak with want. A tentative hand reaches for his chest, sliding it up until she’s about to reach the skin that’s revealed on the top. She stills her hand there, not quite touching.

Blake grunts. “Do it.”

“Blake...”

“You want me? Anything? Then take it, for once stop thinking, stop controlling everything, _show me._ Show me you want me.”

His words make her feel dizzy, his incredible gift of reading her something she still isn’t used to. She’s used to taking the upper hand, used to letting people see only her strong side. She won’t allow people to see her weak— not anymore. She doesn’t allow passion to cloud her judgement— not anymore. But with Blake, she’s helpless to fight any of it. She just wants.

Pure fucking want and she’s terrified. For the right reasons this time, but still, _terrified_.

Her hand slides up farther, brushing the short chest hairs that cover his otherwise smooth skin. Her fingers tremble as they keep moving upward, lying still right over the pulse point on his neck.

He shares one last look with her before grabbing her hand off him, dipping his hips slightly so he can hoist her up and steal her breath in a crushing kiss. Her back hits the door slightly to their right, causing it to slam shut all the way. The force was kind of brutal, and she’s sure she’ll feel it later, but for now she doesn’t care. She just wants more of what this is. Blake’s lips are relentless on hers, nipping and biting at the tender flesh until it’s swollen and red. Her hands are restless on his back, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. When she moves her hands to his curls and tugs, he grunts painfully satisfied into her mouth.

She feels the tingles go up and down her spine, his body holding her up against the wall with ease. Her mouth works overtime at matching his intensity, her tongue licking at the curve of his lips, smiling when he grunts and moans in response.

For a moment, it seems like they find a smoother rhythm; their tongues tangling softly, the sounds of their heavy breathing narrating the whole thing. His hand moves to her hair, tilting her head back slightly, leaving soft trails of kisses along the newly revealed skin. She shudders in his arms, feeling like she’s two minutes away from combusting.

The feeling only intensifies when he grinds his hips into her, and his erection collides with her core. Desperation shows its truth in the moment, causing her legs to tighten around his waist, trying to urge him into her by the sheer force of her thigh muscles.

“Blake.” She murmurs, and _God_, her voice sounds like she’s close to dying—in some ways, she feels like she _is_. She’s dying for this man to give her more, feeling like he’s the only one that can save her from the overwhelming thirst inside her.

“I love you.” He whispers against her lips in response, like it’s the most normal thing now—like it’s something they can just say in passing and not think twice about. Like it’s not something that still blows her mind in a way that’s incredibly fear-inducing.

She feels herself growing emotional and lunges forward again. The way their mouths connect make them both gasp, his hand now cupping the side of her face. She kisses him until she’s sure all her lipstick is now scattered along his lips and chin, her thumb tracing the swollen flesh and she moans when he nips at her fingertip.

She rolls her hips in favour of getting some of that much-needed friction, and it causes Blake to do what she’s been hoping for all along. His arms readjust his grip on her, before walking towards the large, wooden bed. He lowers her down gently, wasting no time in covering her body with his larger one. Her hands press at his back, wanting to feel all of him.

“You drive me crazy.” He whispers, kissing her jaw and cheek.

She lets her hands wander across his back, sliding them underneath the hem of his shirt until she’s touching bare skin. He breathes heavily against her chin, motioning for her to look up so he can kiss her again.

She’s always been in love with kissing. Ever since she was a teenager, starting to figure out about love and intimacy, she was obsessed with the idea of making out. None of her lovers ever liked it as much as she did, but Blake seems equally as determined to explore every inch of her mouth.

While he’s occupied with that, she waits for the perfect moment to use her strength and flip them. She straddles his waist, smirking when his face is now underneath hers and his eyes portray genuine confusion. She can tell he’s trying to figure out what she wants, and she decides to answer him before he can verbalize his question.

“This.” She whispers. “Just this.”

He seems to understand perfectly, his hands finding solace on her back. She leans forward, kissing him again, but this time moving her hips in sync with their rhythm.

The soft moans and whimpers that escape their mouths only spur her on more, the whole thing so much more intimate and erotic than any other sexual experience she’s ever had. The feeling of her own arousal colliding with his hardness, everytime she moves her hips, has her mind spiralling out of control.

She can tell Blake notices too, by the hold on her back that tightens and the soft, and encouraging way he guides her movements. His hips work to counter hers, making for delicious points of friction. She doesn’t know how far they’ll take this, but she knows she won’t survive if they don’t at least jump that cliff together.

She’s so focused on grinding her hips and meeting his kisses, that she doesn’t even realize the moment he gyrates his hips up and tangles his hand in the back of her hair. The two forceful movements happening simultaneously tear a loud whimper from the back of her throat, her body threatening to fall into him. The hand in her hair and the one on her hip are what keep her upright, silent moans slipping past her slick lips.

“God damnit.”

Blake smiles and she closes her eyes at the sight, for it being entirely too much.

To make matters worse, his movements slow down, yet continue to deliberately touch her where she needs it the most. She opens her eyes, partially to tell him to speed it up, but also to see the look on his face. He holds her gaze, and though she can see the overwhelming arousal pooling in his depths, she’s almost more overwhelmed by the _love_ she sees.

Though slower, his movements continue as he holds her up and it dawns on her that he isn’t slowing down cause he wants to stop—he’s slowing down to focus more on the other side of their passion. He wants her to know that what they’re doing is more than a frantic make-out that escalated, this is _real_, this is intimacy in the truest form.

She wants to cry and scream, feeling pleasure so undeniably close. His hips move up again, just as she moves down and her whole body starts trembling. His grip on her loosens just a little bit and she can’t keep herself upright any longer, crashing into his chest. His arms come around her back, holding her, as he keeps moving his hips, pressing his erection firmly against her.

His kisses have descended to her collarbone, while she can only hold on. She lets out little whimpers into the crook of his neck, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“You’re so incredible, _fuck_ Gwen.” His voice sounds raw and used, his own hips stuttering when she lets the pleasure ripple through her, her breath hitching.

She can’t talk, doesn’t speak, she wonders if she’s even breathing. His own breathing is harsh against the shell of her ear, but he still continues to pepper small and broken kisses along the skin he finds. She doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how good it feels with him.

She finds herself afraid to look up at him after a few minutes, her body feeling beyond exhausted. She looks up from where she’s lying on top of him, his lips curving into a smile when she does. The warmth in his eyes makes her chest tight, and she can’t help but grin back.

“How was that for a make out?” She giggles, wiping at some of the lipstick stains at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re amazing.” He replies, shaking his head in disbelief. “You can stay in here tonight, if you want.”

Her mind immediately crashes straight into the gutter, her teeth nearly chewing a hole in her lip. As much as she wants to stay in here and risk taking things even further, deep down she doesn’t think she can handle anything more tonight. She wants to have sex with him, and there’s no doubt in her mind he wants the same thing. But if he wants her as badly as she wants him, he’ll still want her when they get back home. He’ll still want her after they survive this weekend at his ranch.

“I want to.” She smiles, turning her head so she can nuzzle his cheek. “Next time. Yeah?”

He uses his hand to cup her cheek, lifting her closer to his mouth.

“Next time.” He says against her lips before claiming them for one last kiss.

She pouts when they pull apart, even though it’s her who breaks their kiss. She inhales deeply, letting out a small laugh as she takes in his dishevelled look.

“Goodnight, cowboy.”

He grunts, his arm trying to tug her back into him, but she shakes him off, finding footing on the floor again. She didn’t even realize it had gotten so dark already, the room barely illuminated anymore. Her fingertips run over her swollen lips, suppressing a moan as she thinks back to the feeling of his mouth claiming hers so deliciously.

“Night, sweetheart.”

The giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest has her shaking her head, moving slowly towards the door before leaning against the doorway. She shoots one last look over at the cowboy laying in his bed, and uses her hands to physically push herself out of the room, closing his door behind her.

Next time.


	18. Good At Starting Fires

A delicious scent fills the air as she walks down the stairs in nothing but her sleeping shorts and an oversized tee she came to steal from Blake later in the night. She smiles as she hears the soft rhythm of an unknown country song, at least to her, and she feels even happier when she hears Blake softly humming along. He doesn’t sense her walking into the kitchen and she takes his adorable obliviousness to sit herself at the kitchen counter and watch him for a while.

She can already the taste the scrambled eggs he’s preparing, some French toast already served on two plates. Last night had been ridiculous in the best way, her whole body still tingling for hours after their make out. She’d hated prying herself away from him after that, but if that was any indication of what’s to come, she knows it’ll be worth the wait.

Blake’s head and feet softly bob along to the music, the peaceful moment suddenly interrupted by Blake’s soft chuckle.

“When were you gonna tell me you came in here?”

He doesn’t even look back at her to make sure his assumption was right, and she smiles at how perceptive he is—even when she thinks he isn’t.

“When were you gonna tell me you were aware of me coming in?” She smiles.

“I liked the thought of you watching me like a creep.” He teases, turning around to give her a friendly smile.

She bites her lip, the sight of Blake Shelton in a short sleeved t-shirt and sweats, enough to get her body stirred up again.

“What are you making?” She asks, though it’s obvious already.

“I figured I couldn’t go wrong with eggs and toast. Am I right?”

Gwen nods, her stomach already grumbling in anticipation. “Totally. It smells delicious.”

Blake turns back to the stove again, only for him to flick it off and serve the pan’s content on both plates. He opens the second drawer for some cutlery before sliding the plate down to where Gwen’s sitting at the counter.

“It’s good to have you here.” He says softly, his eyes continuing to linger on her while they eat. Normally she would find this kind of staring invasive or nerve wrecking, but now she can’t imagine it _not_ happening. It feels good to be his center of attention.

“It’s good to be here.” Gwen replies, tearing a piece of toast off with her hand. “Though I totally hate your chickens. They woke me up at five. Five, Blake.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, shrugging in response. “Sorry darlin’, I’m afraid I can’t change their morning schedule.”

Gwen sighs dramatically, shooting him a smile for good measure.

“It’s okay, last night was worth it.”

Blake’s gaze darkens, and she knows he’s still feeling the effects of last night too.

“Damn right it was. My bed missed you, though.”

Gwen blushes. “Next time?”

It might be the most forward thing she’s ever asked, but sensing Blake’s response to her words makes her feel validated in it being the right thing to say.

“Is that even a question?” He retorts, holding her gaze, his voice low and husky.

He licks his lips as he looks her up and down and she can feel the goosebumps erupting across the canvas of her back. It’s almost too much to be on the receiving end of his gaze now, and she’s glad the moment gets interrupted by his phone buzzing. He looks down at the phone and she traces the expression on his face, realizing he’s reluctant, angry even.

“You’re not gonna get that?” She asks softly.

“Nope, not at all.” He smiles at her, hitting the red button before sliding it out of view.

She frowns. “Who was that?”

“Brandon.”

“_Blake_…”

“I don’t have anything to say to him.” He says definitive, not interested in discussing it further.

She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re really gonna continue to be mad at him? For how long are you gonna keep that up, Blake? He’s your friend.”

“Some friend.” Blake huffs.

Though she knows he wants her to drop it, she’s never been one to shy away from these types of conversations. She hates feeling like she came in between a friendship, her heart not allowing her to let it go as quickly.

“He just wants what’s best for you.”

“Gwen, give it up.” He says, his words not sounding as rough as they are. “I wanna focus on being here with you, I don’t want to spend my time talking to the person who was trying not to let this happen.”

Just like that, the phone starts buzzing again and Gwen bites her lip, wincing.

“Damn it.” Blake grunts, staring daggers at the device.

“Just talk to him. It might be serious. Trust me, you don’t want to miss a call like that.”

Blake’s gaze moves up to her face, understanding colouring his features. She feels her eyes slightly watering, remembering the multiple missed calls she got left with, that caused her to turn her back to the stage for nearly a decade.

“Fine.” Blake huffs and Gwen points to the empty plates, indicating she’ll take care of the dishes so he can take the call. “I’ll be right back.”

Gwen nods as he walks towards the living room area. Gwen lets out a relieved breath, hoping they’ll be able to work this one out—not wanting to be the reason Blake and his manager don’t get along anymore.

She takes care of the empty plates, putting it in the dishwasher while cleaning the two pans by hand. She struggles with finding the proper place for everything, not yet acquainted with his placements, but she’s sure he won’t mind the few incorrectly placed items. She turns back around at the sound of Blake walking back into the kitchen, his hand scratching the back of his head. He looks at her intensely and she _knows_ that look.

All hope for him having had a good conversation flies out of the window.

He’s angry.

As fuck.

“Blake?”

He doesn’t answer her, instead he walks his way back into the living room, where he came from and Gwen rushes to follow him.

“Hey, talk to me.” She says, pulling at his arm to keep him from pacing. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, words not coming easy to him at this moment.

“That interviewer, the one who brought up all these ridiculous rumours…” Blake’s voice trails off into a scoff.

“What about him?”

“Apparently, Miranda paid him. Or she paid someone to pay him, I don’t know.” Gwen’s eyes widen, momentarily speechless. “Brandon called me to give me a heads up, he wanted me to know she’s playing dirty and I need to be prepared.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It’s all she knows to say, her heart breaking for him all over again.

“It never ends.” He chuckles bitterly, his teeth biting onto his lip so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d draw blood.

“It does.” Gwen fights, grabbing his hand. “It’s already over. Look, she’s grasping at straws, it’s her desperate attempt at holding on to you, and she’s going to realize soon that it won’t work.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Blake retorts, shaking his head and tearing his hand out of her grasp. “What if all this comes crashing down on me and I lose everything I worked so hard for?”

She shakes her head. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I won’t _let_ it happen.”

The words are deliberate and Blake’s gaze is hard on hers. He steps forward again, his fingers lightly brushing her upper arm. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me…”

“No.” She interrupts, looking up at him. “I’m not _trying_ to do anything here. I’m telling you that she won’t get away with that—you might not always feel like it, but you have a team of people behind you willing to go to bat for you. I’m part of your team now.”

She knows he’s letting anger and fear drive him right now, so he doesn’t have to face anything deeper, but his resolve seems to be weakening a bit.

“I just don’t want this to backfire. I don’t want to live in that space anymore.”

“Can you trust me please?” She whispers sweetly, letting his silence be the response she needs. “Blake?”

“I trust you.”

“Good.” She smiles. “Then let’s not let this ruin our time here; she screwed you over with that interview but you’re here now—_we’re_ here now. You’re not living in that place anymore, Blake. She doesn’t have any power over you.”

His smile is genuine now, though she can still sense a bunch of tension in his body.

“God, I’m glad you’re here.” He whispers into the quiet air, the words causing her to come up with a wicked plan to help him get rid of some of the worst tension.

He picks up on the mischievous smile on her face, but before he can ask about it, she’s pushing at his chest until he has no choice but to lower himself onto the couch. He chuckles a bit at the force, readjusting himself into a proper sitting position. He looks at her in confusion, his eyes widening as she lowers herself onto her knees in front of him.

“Gwen.” He gasps, his stunned expression only spurring her on more.

“What?” She asks innocently, her nails skimming up his knees and thighs before opening them enough to settle in between them. “You don’t want this?”

He looks at her wide-eyed and she smirks as realization covers his handsome features. She uses her hands to peel his sweats and boxers down quickly, not waiting for Blake to gain his bearing back. He suppresses a moan when she runs her fingertips along his inner thigh, feeling him twitch ever so slightly underneath her wandering hand.

She places a kiss where her hand has been delicately touching him, mumbling sweet nothings against the sensitive skin of his thigh. Without giving him any warning, her hand wraps around him tightly, licking a stripe up his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He hisses, a hand grabbing onto the back of her head to steady himself.

She smiles at his reaction, taking him into her mouth completely. He’s by no means small and it takes her a few efforts to get it right, but by the time she’s working him into her mouth with a teasing rhythm, he’s a babbling mess.

“Jesus Christ, fuck yeah.”

“Like that?” She muses softly, sucking at his head until he groans in frustration.

“More.” He grunts, trying to force her hand—and mouth— to take more of him. She shakes her head, pulling away completely, doe eyes looking down at her.

“You get more when I want you to get more.” She says, holding his surprises gaze. “Don’t try that again, Blake.”

She can tell he’s not used to the reversed role of dominance, but he gives in regardless.

She uses every trick in the book then, her mouth working between his cock and balls, making sure to drag the pleasure out as long as possible. His thighs tremble as she works him closer to the edge and she’s filled with the need to watch him come undone.

She sucks tightly, holding him there while waiting for his eyes to lock with hers.

"Fuck, baby.” He moans, his eyes rolling as his strength and resolve fade. "_Gwen_.”

She understands what he’s trying to tell her, and she tightens her grip on him, keeping him inside her mouth. He makes a gurgling sound, deliciously ripped from his throat as he comes, spilling inside her mouth.

Watching him fall of that edge is officially the hottest thing she’s ever seen, her own body tingling with arousal.

She lets him come down gently, letting him go as she smooths her hands up and down his knees. She smiles up at him, his eyes soft and loving as he reaches to pull her up off the ground. She settles on his lap, straddling his naked lower body.

“Where did that come from?” His voice is more like a shaky breath, and she feels beyond proud at being able to render him so weak.

“I just thought you could use some cheering up.” She smiles devilishly. “Not to mention you’re _really_ hot when you’re working yourself up.”

“Am I now?”

She nods, biting her lip. “Very.”

"God, you’re amazing."

All she can give him is a pathetic nod and soft affirmation, her entire being continuing to be affected by what they’ve just done and his more than raw words. She smiles when she shifts in his lap ever so gently and extracts a grunt from him again, steadying out his breathing with the steady press of her body against his.

  
*

He’s been trying not to think too much about the phone call from earlier, as he can do nothing to change it from here. Or anywhere for that matter. What he _could_ do, was enjoy his time with Gwen on the ranch. After she’d given him one of the best blowjobs of his life, he almost expected things to get weird, but surprisingly enough, there was none of that.

Aside from the impromptu explosion of passion, he’s been finding it much easier to let go of this morning’s news, with her by his side. It’s becoming a steady thing; Gwen’s presence calming him, making him feel more grounded. He feels himself worrying less about the things he cannot change, and instead focuses on the things he can affect; like Gwen.

Her eyes are wide as he stretches out his hand for her, her fingers wrapping around his wrist as she steps over the pile of mud. He would laugh at her if she weren’t this ridiculously cute—and terrified at the moment.

“Blake, are you sure— “

“Yes sweetheart.” He reassures her for the twentieth time. “You’re not gonna fall and the horse will like you.”

She looks up at him innocently and the look on her face is too endearing for her own good. She comes to stand next to him in front of the stables, the two horses already ready for them to ride. The size of the animals in front of her seems to intimidate her a little, as she keeps close to his side, not moving forward on her own accord.

“You wanna pet them first?” He asks gently. “It helps getting them familiar with you—and you with them. Makes it less scary.”

She nods softly, though still not making a move. He doesn’t want to push her, as he gauges what she needs the most right now and he settles on gently nudging her with a hand on her back. She smiles at him reassuringly, stepping forward until she’s close enough to touch.

“Put a hand on the back of her neck, like this…” Blake demonstrates, his horse immediately recognizing him by nudging its head towards him.

He can see Gwen smile in adoration, before slowly following his lead and reaching out her hand to her own horse. The sudden head movement makes her jump, her free hand grasping onto his hip.

“Easy.” Blake instructs, eyes lighting up when she tries again. “There you go.”

“She’s so beautiful.” Gwen muses, eventually feeling comfortable enough to hold her hand out in front of the horse’s mouth, chuckling when she starts nibbling there. “And cute. Totally adorable.”

“See, just like me, she _adores_ your touch.”

Gwen’s eyes sparkle with a bit of mischief as she looks up at him, his heart doing a weird flip. It’s no secret he’s in deep with her, but here on his ranch, enjoying the country life with Gwen by his side, makes his feeling quadruple. He loves her, and it shows with every look they share.

“Let’s hope it ends as well as it did with you.”

He gapes at her. “You’re killing me.”

“You started it.”

Needing desperately to change the subject, he motions with his hand to the large animal still nibbling and licking at her hand.

“You think you’re ready to ride?”

She bites her lip, stifling a laugh and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to survive this day.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” He laughs, stepping forward to help her up. “Here, lean on me. Put your foot in there and then push yourself up, I’ll help you the rest of the way.”

She does as she’s told, moving a bit awkwardly but together they get the job done. She smiles when she’s seated on top of her horse, her face looking like she’s about to embark on the biggest adventure of her life.

It’s kind of funny to him how she’s literally the most fearless person he knows, never saying no to a little bit of trouble, and yet she’s so overwhelmed by the prospect of riding a horse. It makes him feel a weird sense of protectiveness too; he wants to help starve all her fears, be the one to introduce her to everything she doesn’t already know.

He gets on his own horse much easier, holding onto the reins as he eyes her.

“Make sure your feet are steady in the stirrups, you can hold on to these…” He gently lifts the reins to make sure she’s holding onto them right. He doesn’t want to appear too overprotective, but she looks so incredibly small up there, he can’t help but make sure.

She nods. “I think I’m ready.”

“Good. You just nudge her real gently and you’ll see you won’t have to do much.”

He waits for her to pick up his instruction, her mind still reeling apparently. He waits her out patiently, smiling when she finally instructs her horse to start walking. The pace is slow and peaceful, loving the sight of Gwen starting to get a hang of it.

“This is so weird, oh my god.” She laughs, holding on for dear life. “What if she suddenly starts sprinting or something?”

Blake can’t help but laugh at her this time, shaking his head.

“Darlin’, unless you give her very weird, very rough instructions, she won’t just start galloping.”

“What if she starts standing up?”

Blake stifles a smile. “You mean rearing?”

Gwen nods. “Yeah.”

“Sweetheart, these horses are trained well. Besides, they’re familiar with this trail and won’t freak out. You have nothing to worry about.”

His words seem to calm her down as they ride side by side, her eyes trained in front of her. It’s clear that she’s in awe of the landscape and large stretches of nature.

“I can’t believe you own all this.” She mumbles softly.

“I wish I had more.”

Her eyes widen. “You were serious about expending?”

“I know this property is by no means small, but it’s really only in the beginning phase. I kinda set the goal for myself that if my career keeps picking up, I’ll start making larger investments. I don’t want to spend everything now and have nothing left to maintain it.”

“It’s already so incredible though.” She replies innocently, squealing when her horse neighs. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”

“She’s just excited.”

Gwen swallows. “Oh.”

“You wanna stop for a second?”

She shakes her head, looking at him sweetly. “No, I’m okay.”

He lets her take the lead on the tempo, even lets her pick out the trails as they encounter them. Though he’s starting to sense that she’s feeling more and more calm, he keeps a close eye on her, not wanting to push her into doing something she’s uncomfortable with.

As if she can read his thoughts, her voice ends his inner monologue.

“I love this, you know? I never get to do anything like this at home, and to do it here with you, I don’t know—it’s peaceful.”

The words feel incredibly good to hear, and most importantly, relatable.

“This has been the best weekend I’ve had in years.” He admits honestly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

It feels crazy, but he believes her. It’s a trust he can’t quite explain, but everything about her tells him it’s okay to do so, to let his guard down, to let her in.

“I don’t want this to end.”

She shakes her head swiftly. “Nope, no talking about going home. Please, I don’t want to cry. I wanna enjoy this moment, for as long as it lasts.”

“Deal.”

She smiles. “This is all that matters.”

He lets the words settle within him, enjoying the way they warm him up. It might be the last day on his ranch together for a while, but he knows some things have undeniably changed here. He doesn’t know how things will play out back at home, back in Nashville, but he’s more determined than ever to not let his moments end with her.

He repeats her words all the way through the night, through the drive at the airport, and later through the flight back home. He feels it everywhere, even as they enter the familiar setting of her Nashville rental again.

_This is all that matters_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will officially be my longest story yet, since part I of this fic is coming to an end soon. Part II will deal with a different storyline (an angsty one, so this is kind of warning...) I just wanted to thank you guys for sticking with this story so far, and being so supportive. More updates are coming soon <3


	19. Don't Go Loving On Nobody But Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where Part I of this story ends. We’ve seen them work together, get to know each other as artists and fall in love. 
> 
> They’ve build a steady foundation now and Part II of this story will both test and honor that. I hope you’re still with me as we enter the road to the finish line xx

The party was a success—everyone was drinking, everyone was in conversation with each other, the music was tastefully picked out and most importantly, everyone was excited. The music they’ve come to celebrate has left everyone with the same thought; evolution. He’s evolved as an artist, a writer, a vocalist. It all had seen tremendous growth, and people were rightfully thrilled about it. _He_ was thrilled about it.

A party to celebrate his new songs, finally having enough to fill an album with, had initially been his label’s idea. This way he could premiere some of these songs amongst a few of his peers and circle of friends, while also hoping it would speed the process along. Blake isn’t crazy and he definitely isn’t naive; getting these songs out there to a few people, will put on a bit of pressure, not wanting to wait too long and lose momentum. 

He’s not even mad at that. He wants these songs out there more than anyone, and he can’t wait for this album to be a finished thing. 

What he loves the most about tonight though, has nothing to do with his music, but everything with the person who made it happen for him. 

Gwen had been equally as excited about tonight, her presence amongst some of his closest friends and industry acquaintances, has done exactly what he thought it would—enamour every single one of them. She’d charmed her way into everyone’s heart, just like she did with his, and he can’t do anything but look at it with a smile.

Glancing over to where she’s standing, he can watch her throw her head back in laughter, the small blonde downing what’s got to be her sixth drink of the evening. He hadn’t even meant to count, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off her at all. He tried at keeping his distance, not wanting too many eyes on them, but this whole evening he’d been solely focused on her.

He’d feel creepy about it, but the genuine love he feels while watching her interact with his people, makes up for it all. He watches as she makes her rounds, chattering with everyone who demands her attention and he wonders how she’s even still standing; the swing in her step and swaying of her hips occasionally, showing him she’s feeling the effects of that alcohol.

He’s in the middle of a conversation of his own when he hears Gwen’s laughter fill his ears, the sweet sound causing him to glance back again. This time, his eyes don’t like the sight as much as he’s done previously, a weird possessiveness clouding his chest and throat as he watches her talk to Dean. 

He hasn’t seen his friend since that night at Gwen’s place, and though he knew he’d be here tonight, he wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to watch him and Gwen interact again. 

The subject of whatever they had for a while never was brought back up between Blake and Gwen. He wanted it that way, and he could sense she felt the same way. In a way, it wasn’t important. 

She’d picked him.

Even if they weren’t officially together quite yet—Blake had made his case for her and Gwen chose him. As juvenile as it sounds, he won that battle and didn’t think to care more about it. 

He’s reminded of the bond Dean and Gwen share though, as it’s obvious they’re having zero trouble catching up again. It dawns on him that he doesn’t even know if they stayed in contact during the time he moved in with Gwen. He doesn’t know anything about that relationship anymore, and it’s only now starting to unnerve him.

Not wanting to be a brute, he tries to keep the conversation with one of his frequent writer-collaborator Chris going, but it proves to be a challenge. Focusing on the subject of their banter is hard when all he wants to do is go over there and claim Gwen as his; tell Dean that he’s too late, that it’s _him_ whodeserves her 

The thoughts in his mind damn near disgust him, trying to swallow past the bitter taste in his mouth.

By the time he’s figured out a way to subtlety end the conversation with Chris, he finds Dean in conversation with someone else, with no sight of Gwen anywhere. When he takes a few strides to try and locate her, he’s spotted by the one person he didn’t feel like talking to. He knows it’s too late to try and turn around now, so instead he makes his way over to Dean, trying not to show his discomfort as they shake hands.

“Long time no see.” Dean speaks friendly, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Busy times, brother.” 

Dean hums. “Tell me about it. How you’ve been?”

The small talk feels weird, especially considering they used to see each other way more often, back when they were both still signed to the same label. 

Dean had chosen to part ways with Warner Bros after his publishing deal started to suffer the consequences, and Blake had always kind of admired that about him; Dean’s passion for writing was so strong, he was willing to give up any kind of career he could’ve had as an artist. It’s much like what he admires about Gwen, and it bothers him even more how that could just be one more thing to connect Dean to the person he wants most.

“Busy, which is good. These songs don’t make themselves, y’know?” 

“I heard Gwen has helped shape a bunch of them.” Dean adds, smiling. “She’s quite the lucky charm.”

Blake bites his lip, nodding. “Sure is. Hey buddy, talking about that, you know where she went?”

“To get some air. You know she’s small, and she’s been throwing back these drinks like she’s one of the guys.” Dean laughs, his eyes sparkling and Blake _knows_ that sparkle. 

“I should go check on her.” Blake says, not caring if it sounds like the world’s lamest excuse to get out of this conversation.

If Dean catches on, he doesn’t let it show. His nod is swift and understanding, his hand patting him on the shoulder twice. 

“We should get together again sometimes, raise some hell.” 

Blake nods again, not feeling the words at all, but pushing past rejection-filled words. “Yeah, good to see you again.” 

“Right back at ya.”

Though he’s proud of himself for containing the worst jealousy, he hates himself for how heavy his body feels with sorrow towards the guy. He tries not to think about that as he walks towards the sliding doors, trying to catch a glimpse of Gwen.

He’s not even able to slide the doors open before her slim body comes barging back in, knocking into his chest forcefully.

She looks up in a bit of shock, before she starts giggling uncontrollably. He’s still feeling a bit wound up about his conversation with Dean, but her playfulness makes it impossible not to laugh along. 

“You were in quite the hurry there, darling.” Blake smiles, looking down at her.

Her hand covers her mouth for a second, her other hand landing on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She giggles. “My God, I didn’t even see you there.”

“I could tell.” Blake chuckles.

“It’s like there wasn’t a step when I went outside, and then suddenly there was one.” 

“You’re drunk as hell, right now.” His hand comes to hold onto her elbow when she stumbles a little, allowing her to lean her weight into his chest.

“It’s a fun party, Blake. I’m having fun.”

“I’m glad you are.” Blake says softly, continuing to hold on to her. “I’ve barely seen you tonight, though.”

Gwen smiles up at him through her lashes, biting her lip.

“You’ve been avoiding me, cowboy.”

“Being subtle is more like it.” 

“Like you were subtle about checking me out earlier?”

The words cause him to look at her in surprise, the slurring of her words not making them any less obvious, hitting him hard.

“Jesus, you think…Was it that obvious?”

Gwen laughs loudly, swatting his chest. “Either you were checking me out, or you suddenly developed a very strong liking to Dean...”

The mention of the writer’s name brings back all the jealousy he was trying to suppress, and he can’t help the groan that escapes his lips.

“You two had a lot to laugh about, it seems.”

Gwen frowns. “He’s a funny guy—kinda like you.”

Her intoxication makes her that much more reckless and it’s like she’s not at all aware of the raging feeling she brings alive inside him. He feels bad for her innocent thinking to be translated to such an envious feeling in his mind, but he can’t help himself.

“I don’t think he’s like me at all.” 

“You don’t think he’s funny?” Gwen asks, oblivious.

“I think he still likes you.” Blake says, going straight for the kill instead of beating around the bush. “As a matter of fact, I _know_ he still does.”

She falls silent for a moment, thinking over his words. Before he can say anything else, she’s laughing again, the sound much more confident, much more knowing this time.

“Oh my god.” She squeals, her finger pointing into his chest. “You’re jealous.”

Blake grunts again. “Gwen.”

“No.” She interrupts, pushing against him some more, taunting him. “You’re actually being super jealous, I can see it.”

He wants to deny her accusations, tell her she’s so far off it’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t want to lie. He doesn’t even want to spare her the discomfort of his envy anymore.

“He’s seen you naked.” Blake retorts, gaze set on hers. “Multiple times. Can you really blame me for being uncomfortable?”

Gwen scrunches her nose. “We’re not doing that anymore.”

It’s maddening to have her stand so close to him, having this conversation while her sweet perfume flies up his nostrils and his hands are on her body to keep her steady. He just wants to lean down and capture those lips like he’s done a few times before, kiss her until she’s dizzy with want and forgets the name Dean altogether.

“Gwen….” Blake whispers, shaking his head as if he can shake the jealousy out of there. “You drive me fucking nuts, you know that?”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“You don’t like him.”

Blake rolls his eyes, it feeling like an understatement at the moment.

“I want him to stay away from you.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

Blake’s arm slides across her back then, keeping her close as she stumbles into him some more. His head lowers to the side of her face, his lips speaking right against the shell of her ear.

“I know it’s not.” He whispers, his breath hot on her ear. “But I know you want me in the same way I want you. Even when you’re playing it cool, I can tell. I can _always_ tell.”

He could tell his words were affecting her, even through her current intoxication and hard-hitting efforts to hide her need.

“Blake, we’re in public.” She whispers.

“I’m not doing anything.’

“You are.”

“What do you want me to do?” He asks silkily, tightening his hold on her back when he feels her trying to take a step back. 

“I…. I don’t know.” She stammers, her eyes taking a while to find the courage to meet his. “Everything.” She whispers, biting her lip. “Nothing.”

It’s the chaotic answer he came to expect from her, but he decides to wait it out, knowing that the truth is only a second away from finding its way into the open air.

“You know I want you.” She whispers harshly, like it’s a truth she’s told him many times before.

“More than you want him?”

She pushes against his chest again and this time he relents.

“Stop being a jerk.” She says, her tone serious though he can see a hint of amusement flickering on her features. Her hand finds his arm again after a few seconds, tugging him towards _her_ now. “I wanna go home. Uber back with me?”

He tries not to think about what all those words can imply, and instead nods, not trusting his voice. The party has already died down quite a bit by the time they make their way back into the main foyer, saying their goodbyes much quicker than expected.

The car is waiting for them outside already, and he opens the door for Gwen and waits for her to be completely seated before sliding in next to her.

The drive back to her place is quiet, but the tension continues to fall off him in waves. Gwen is sitting impossibly close to him, though she makes no deliberate move to touch him—barely even looks at him. By the time he can see her driveway approaching, he’s finally had enough of the quiet.

“_Gwen_— “

“Are you going to say goodbye now?” Gwen asks, her eyes finding his gaze. Her words sound more clear than they did half an hour ago, the drive seemingly having sobered her up just a little bit. 

“Is that what you want?” Blake asks softly, feeling the car come to a stop.

Gwen shakes her head. “You can come in if you want.”

His throat dries up instantly, the nod of his head the best thing he can give her. She bites her lip, apparently satisfied with the lacklustre respons.

The next few minutes go by in a blur; they exit the car and somehow he finds himself past her doorstep, in the middle of her living room. The lights are still out, and standing behind her in the darkness of her house, sparks the intensity up a notch.

*

His presence behind her makes her throat dry all the way up, her hands clammy. When Blake’s hands skim down her ribs, tickling her in the process, she can’t help but lean her back into his chest. His hands reach out for her hips suddenly and yank her backwards, pressing her firmly against his chest until there’s not an inch of space left between them.

“Blake.” She whispers, gasping when his mouth latches onto the pale skin on her neck.

She doesn’t want to be this easy, but the feeling of his tongue there nearly is her undoing. He uses the perfect combination between soft kisses and playful licks, burning her body up from the inside out. She lets her eyes close, biting her lip hard.

“I don’t think I can spend another minute not touching you.” He says in between kisses, skimming his nose against her shoulder blade. 

She tries to find words but they all fail her. All she can do is stand still against him as his mouth claims every spot of skin he can find. 

“Do you want me to stop touching you, Gwen?” He asks, his lips capturing earlobe and sucking gently.

Gwen’s chest tightens, all the air in her lungs currently unavailable. She shakes her head, but her mouth doesn’t work with her at all. Two seconds later, his strong hands pull her around until her chest is pressed against his, the blue of his eyes piercing down her brown ones.

“Blake….” She whispers his name like it’s a word she’s not supposed to say, and her eyes water when he looks at her with the utmost longing. “You know what I want.”

His hands on her sides tighten, his head lowering until his lips are barely touching hers. The touch is so feather-light, Gwen has the audacity to whimper in frustration.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He whispers against her lips, smiling when she obviously longs for a more prominent touch. “I want to make you feel good Gwen, but you gotta tell me, baby. What do you want?”

It’s been a while since anyone has been able to get her completely naked without even taking off a single piece of clothing. Her hand slides up the side of his face, her fingers feeling the short stubble along his jaw. The look on his face is much like the same it was before; longing and arousal both pooling in these ocean eyes. 

He leans in again, this time placing a kiss on her cheek, her chin, and back to her shoulder blades. She’s surprised her legs are still holding her up and suddenly her decision is clear.

“I want you to touch me, Blake.” She nods in between words, emphasizing how serious she is. “Touch me and don’t stop.”

The tremble in her voice finally dissolves some and all that’s left is pure, guttural need. The way her whole body reacts to even his facial expressions is something she’s never experienced before. That hooded look in his eyes before grabbing the side of her face with his palm, nearly makes her cry out for him. When he crashes their mouths together in a frantic kiss, she knows she’s made the right decision. The fluttering in her stomach makes it hard to focus on things like posture and she’s thankful for Blake’s strong grip on her. The way his tongue delicately tangles with hers has the moisture flooding in between her legs in record time. 

Before she can open her mouth to ask him, his arms hoist her up until she’s got both legs tightly wrapped around his waist. She can’t help but grind herself against him, needing more friction where her arousal mounts. The small grunts that leave his mouth at the deliberate circling of her hips make her even hotter for him. His hands palm the curve of her ass, as he carries her up the stairs with minimal effort. Their kisses haven’t stopped, but his mouth tears away from hers to speak once they enter the bedroom.

“Do you know how beautiful you are, right now?”

Not expecting those words to come out of his mouth at this moment, her head buries into the crook of his neck. She shakes her head before lifting it up to catch his gaze again.

“Just…. go slowly, okay?” The mixture of nerves and excitement already have her trembling a little in his arms, and she just needs more of his closeness to calm her. The contrast of this moment compared to the first time they did this is so huge, she almost feels herself tearing up.

He nods before gently lowering her down onto the matrass, his body carefully draping over hers as he claims her lips again. She loves the way he kisses; gentle but passionate, his mouth never losing its intensity, while still making her feel cherished and desired. Her small hands start unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt and he takes the initiative to take it off completely when it’s just hanging loosely off his shoulders. 

She swallows at the sight of Blake shirtless in front of her, his body in much better shape than what he likes to make people believe. Her hands reach out for his belt buckle, but before she can properly touch the black leather, his hands move to pin hers to the mattress. 

She looks up at him questioningly, but he just shakes his head.

“Not yet.” His hands let go of wrists, but the sternness in which he just spoke those words make it clear that he doesn’t want her to move them. 

She can actually feel her underwear soaking through as his hands work to get rid of her shirt and bra, his mouth softly plastering kisses all over her naked chest. Her breathing is getting heavier and it takes all her strength to not use her hands and guide his mouth to her erect nipples. She bites her lip hard as he continues to kiss her everywhere but _there_, despite her desperation being undeniably clear.

“Blake, please, I need more.”

His mouth moves back up to her lips, kissing her hard. She doesn’t even realize the moment she moves her hands and moves them up to his curls, pulling him even closer. He doesn’t scold her for breaking his silent rule, instead he smiles against her lips as he realizes she’s trying to gain more closeness.

She gasps into his mouth when his thumbs finally move over her nipples, making her whimper and moan into their kiss. She’s 100% sure nothing has ever felt like this, and they’re not even joined together yet. His mouth moves away from her face again, licking and sucking across her collarbone.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He murmurs to her lowly, seconds before his mouth sucks a mark into the skin on her neck. “God, I’m so lucky.”

Her hips buck up at him involuntarily, the words both making her emotional and restless; waiting even another second to make love to this man feels like the biggest crime. 

“I’m ready.” She whines, her hands once again reaching for his belt and this time he lets her. “I need you so bad.”

He smiles wickedly, and if she weren’t so damn turned on, she would scold him for his cockiness in this moment. She can’t deny it’s also incredibly hot to see this version of Blake; so in control, so confident. He replaces her hand with his own and disregards his pants and boxers faster than she could’ve done it. She’s grateful for his sudden quickness, ready to fasten the pace a little bit. Her own pants are coming off the next second, Blake’s hands slowly sliding the fabric down her legs. With Blake naked in front of her, and her in nothing but her wet panties, the reality of the situation finally settles in completely and her chest starts rising violently. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” Blake soft voice speaks to her, while his hand caresses her stomach and moves down to her inner thighs. “Slow and steady.”

Just as the words escape his mouth, two fingers lightly tap against the fabric of her underwear, right over her lips. She moans loudly, squeezing her thighs together to build the friction. He seems to have other ideas as he forces them open again, positioning his body to be right between them. His length presses against her in the most delicious way and she can’t help but vocalize her needs again.

“Underwear.” She huffs out with difficulty, unable to form coherent sentences anymore.

He chuckles before slowly sliding the fabric down her thighs. It becomes clear that he’s drawing everything out agonizingly slow, until she physically can’t take it anymore. She doesn’t know where he gets the strength from, because from the way his arousal is pressed against her center, he’s not faring much better than she is. 

Instead of sliding into her like she secretly hoped he would, he takes the two fingers that started tapping against her underwear earlier and pushes them in slowly, finding solace in the heat between her legs. She curses loudly, throwing her head back into the pillow at the intrusion. 

“Jesus.” He whispers against the side of her cheek. “So tight, baby.”

She has no time to react before he’s sliding down her body, his face nuzzling against her inner thigh. She whimpers as the palms of his hands skin over her waist and legs, trying to prepare herself for what she knows is coming. 

She struggles to keep her hands above her head, and she feels Blake smirk against her.

“Don’t, baby girl.” She shakes her head to answer him, her voice giving out and he hasn’t even really touched her yet.

“Blake, please.”

“What? Tell me what you want.”

She almost laughs at the way he’s creating the worst kind of desperation within her, but she’s too turned on to do anything but give him what he wants.

“Touch me, lick me— anything.”

“Anything?”

She hums.

His lips nip at her inner thing before working open her lips, causing her head to fall back. She tries, really tries, but her hands move to the back of his head by default. He groans his disapproval into her center and she nearly cries at the sensation. 

Afraid he’ll stop, she puts her hands back above her head, sighing deeply.

He seems satisfied with the move and rewards her by picking up speed. Her loud gasp bounces off the walls and she feels his hands grip her hips to keep her from bucking up too much.

“Yes, Blake, oh God.”

His tongue flicks against her clit a few times, using just enough suction to have her mind reeling. His tongue penetrating her soft and slow is what’s about to be her undoing. 

Her back curls and her jaw drops, a scream etching from her throat. When he uses his hand to rub at her clit and softly continues to tongue-fuck her, she comes for him hard. 

Her entire body trembles and quakes, as he holds onto her hips and lets her ride it out, a smugly satisfied smile on his face.

“Not over yet, baby.” He whispers, moving up her body quickly and kissing her chin and bottom lip. 

His finger replaces his tongue, working her open again. 

“Oh God, Blake.” She cries in a strained pitch, not used to the freedom to be loud. Her muscles have only just relaxed before they begin to tense again. "Oh my God.” She repeats. 

Her eyes focus on his and her hips begin to thrust up at him, trying to match the rhythm he sparks up in between her legs.  She feels herself crashing toward that edge again, her eyes wide in disbelief. She’s always enjoyed sex a healthy amount, but she’s never gotten used to back to back orgasms like Blake is trying to give her right now.

" _ Blake _ .” She whimpers, over and over, as her head thrashes from side to side in a futile effort to stave off the explosion she knows is coming. “Please.”

She nearly cries in relief when he nods. “ Come for me .”

She shakes against him again, her inner walls pulsating around his fingers. 

“Jesus Christ.” Blake mutters, kissing her jaw and cheek. 

She can barely breathe, let alone try and meet his kisses. She lets him explore the side of her face and neck with his lips, without moving too much. Her limp arms come around his neck after a few minutes and he weakly kisses her forehead. 

“I need you inside me.”

He smiles at her, leaning in to kiss her one more time before retrieving his fingers from where they’re buried inside her. The way he goes from slightly rough, to incredibly delicate has her mind reeling.

“I know what you need.” He says sweetly, untangling his fingers from her hair and aligning himself with her entrance. 

There’s no way he doesn’t feel the slight tremble of her legs, her thighs quivering with anticipation. Making sure he knows she’s okay and wants to go through with this, she moves her hands to the back of his neck, one hand gripping onto his curls. They share one more look between each other before she feels him starting to slowly push into her. 

A mixture of pleasure and pain settles in her lower stomach, her muscles slowly starting to relax around him. 

“God Gwen, you feel so good.”

She’s not prepared for when he bottoms out and slides all the way in again, reaching places she never even knew existed. He stills inside her, allowing her to adjust to him some more, his lips softly seeking out hers. They kiss for a few minutes without him ever moving, but when he accidently shifts and hits a particular good spot, she begins bucking her hips again.

“Yes, Blake! Oh god.” Her voice is high and breathy, the feelings he brings alive within her threatening to overwhelm her. She can tell her reactions to him turn him on more, his grin apparent when he starts moving with a bit more urgency. 

He’s buried all the way inside, her nails now digging painfully into the skin of his back. There’s a moment where she’s afraid of breaking skin, but Blake’s growing enthusiasm makes her forget all about it. He grunts when he hits her clit just right and she involuntarily tightens around him. 

“Baby please don’t stop. Please.”

She just needs him to pick up a little bit more speed, and she’s for sure a goner. Blake’s mouth against her ear lets her know he’s not quite done with her though.

“I know what you want, just let it build darling.”

His thick accent in her ear only spurs her on more, but his words make her feel defiant and to be honest slightly hopeless. She’s never felt like this before and she’s sure she won’t be able to last long, not even with his encouragements.

“Blake, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” He retorts, snapping his hips forward again. 

She clings onto him for dear life, her moans now a continuous sound. When his hand moves in between her legs and rubs over the enlarged bundle of nerves, she screams his name louder than she ever remembered being in bed.

“Oh god, _fuck_ yes.”

Blake finally picks up speed, and despite his earlier words, the look in his eyes shows her he’s not far behind her. One of her hands falls away from his back and onto the matrass, aimlessly trying to get a handful of sheets. Blake’s soft grunts and moans against her ear have her tightening around him almost rhythmically and she can tell it’s pushing Blake much closer to the finish line as well.

“Damn it, Gwen.”

His chest grazing hers as he slams into her is another thing that’s different and so beyond erotic. Blake is different than her other lovers in every aspect, and his light chest hairs touching her bare skin have her panting, along with the feeling of his cock sliding trough her slick walls.

“Blake…I’m so close.”

He doesn’t answer her this time, instead he keeps fucking her, his movements now much more deliberate. She doesn’t know how he manages to wring the pleasure from her like it’s been years of doing this together, but she literally doesn’t stand a chance. He must sense the moment being near, because he finds her hands on the sheets and intertwines their fingers, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she shatters beneath him. 

His name is the only thing she remembers how to say, her whole body stuttering and convulsing at the pleasure he evokes. 

She doesn’t think anything can possibly feel better than the complete and utter falling apart she just did, but the feeling of Blake coming undone and spilling hot inside of her, is a tough contender. She keeps her legs around him, needing his closeness to calm down but also loving the feeling of him still buried deep inside her. He keeps himself from crashing down on top of her, his arms keeping himself up. She can tell he’s struggling a bit though, the intensity of both their orgasms having done a serious number on their strength.

She moves to roll him onto his back, following him down flexibly without him sliding out of her. He grunts again when her inner muscles tighten by the sheer thought of what she just did, and she giggles a soft apology.

“Sorry cowboy.”

She lets her head lower to his shoulder, smiling when his hand splays across her lower back. She snuggles even closer to him, and it’s crazy how comfortable this feels. There’s no awkward pull-away, or look of regret; there’s only this incredible feeling of satisfaction. 

“You’re amazing, Gwen.”

His words are piercing her heart back together again one syllable at a time, building up her confidence with sincere and precious effort.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” She blushes, his hand sliding a little lower to squeeze her ass cheek. “I told you we’d be good together.”

He hums in affirmation, holding her tightly against him. He covers them both with enough covers, kissing the side of her head gently. The way he holds her is so peaceful, it’s enough for her to not stir again until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to introduce P.2 with you all next!


	20. Who's Holdin' You Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK folks, here's the deal. There's a minor description of violence in this chapter (and in the next). If that's not for you, I totally understand, but you might wanna skip the next two chapters. Things are gonna get a bit rocky, but trust me I don't get off on making them miserable. A happy ending is always coming x

He watches as she’s getting ready, standing up to help her zip up the back of her dress.

“It’s just weird, I feel like I’ve gotten so used to being here, I don’t want to leave.”

Blake hums, unable to stop himself from placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. 

“Then why don’t you stay?”

She smiles, and he catches the curving of her lips in the mirror.

“You know I can’t.” She smiles, shaking her head. She catches his pout and he’s fully aware he’s tugging at her heartstrings a bit. “Don’t pout, mister. You know I’d stay if I could.”

Unable to help himself, he presses closer to her back, enjoying the way she lets him feel her up for a moment.

“Cowboy...” She warns.

“What?”

“Don’t play coy.”

He laughs. “I’m doing no such thing.”

“Hmmm.” She hums, turning around in his arms.

His arms tighten around her back, pressing her in close. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot.”

“Darlin’, please just stay.”

He knows he’s being needy and a part of him is scared it will scare her off, but he can’t help the way his whole body seems to protest her leaving.

“I haven’t been home in nearly 5 months, Blake. I gotta go home, my family is getting impatient.”

He tries not to get stuck on the fact that home isn’t yet with him and pushes his reluctance aside.

“I can come visit you soon, next week actually.”

Her smile takes over her entire face, her body pressing up against his chest. 

“I’m looking forward to it already.” She grins. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

He grunts. “Damnit baby.”

She flashes him a devilish smile. “I’m gonna be busy working anyways, so you wouldn’t see me much if you decided to come earlier.”

That makes his brows raise. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“My manager got me to go in the studio with another artist, back in LA.”

Another surge of jealousy overtakes him as he tries hard not to let it show. He’s always known she’s in high demand and he’s nowhere near the only person she writes with, but the thought of her writing with another artist so soon leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You must be excited.” He rasps, smoothing his hands up and down her back.

“I’m always excited to write.” She replies. “I’m gonna miss these sessions with you, though.”

“Not as much as me, that’s for sure.”

“Whoever I write with from this point on, it’ll never be this special.” She looks at him like he hung the moon and his whole body tingles with the force of it.

“Damn right it won’t be.”

She chuckles, slapping his chest. 

“You’re horrible.”

He smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Her hand cups his jaw, her nail grazing along the short stubble there.

There’s a split second of something he can’t quite place on her face, her hand stilling on his jaw as she looks a bit absentmindedly at him. He nudges her, whistling lowly in his throat.

“Where did you go, sweetheart?”

She stays put in his embrace, though she suddenly appears a bit less present.

“I’m just...” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here with you, I don’t want to think about anything else.”

Blake frowns. “Hey no, you’re struggling with something. What is it?”

She rolls her eyes, but he ignores it.

“I can handle it.” She tries weakly.

“I’m sure you can.” He answers knowingly. “We’re honest with each other though, right? You can lean on me, you know that. So why don’t you let me do that for you?”

She sighs, melting into his hold.

“Going home, it just brings back some memories...” Her eyes cast down and he keeps from rushing her. “I got a weird text from him. I guess I’m just feeling a little uneasy.”

Blake swallows roughly, needing no explanation to know who she’s talking about.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Blake sighs, holding onto her.

She shakes her head. “We’ve been over for a long time; I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it has to be. He heard I was coming home somehow and he’s obviously seen the rumours about us...”

Blake nods. “What did he say?”

“He said he wanted to see me.” She whispers. “Said he knows I want that too.”

She doesn’t meet his eyes and it worries him more than her words do.

“Gwen— “

“I don’t want to.” She interrupts quickly. “See him. I don’t want that at all.”

“I know.” Blake nods. “Gwen, do you feel safe? Do you need me to come with you?”

Her eyes widen. “Blake no, God no, it’s not like that. I was just hoping he’d make it easy to forget about him, you know? Like going home isn’t hard enough...”

“You said he never hurt you, right? Physically?”

He doesn’t mean to push, knowing the subject is far from her favorite, but his overprotective gears are all the way activated.

“That’s right.” She affirms. “The break up itself was bad.... there was screaming, and throwing things, he pushed me.” She looks up at him nervously. “And then there was silence. Almost like we accepted in that moment it was over. It had been over for a long time, really, but at that moment we just kind of let it end.”

“He pushed you?” 

“Listen to me.” She reaches for his hand, linking their fingers. “I’m fine, and as much as I’d love to stay here with you or have you come with me, we both have jobs to do. I promise you, if things get worse or if I start feeling unsafe, I’ll call you.”

She squeezes his hand, but his fears are not all the way soothed yet. 

“I don’t feel good about not being there.”

“Because he texted me?” She cocks her head, smiling. “Baby, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’ve got this.”

He lets go of her hand, wrapping his arm around her firmly and pushing her flush against him. She gives a slight gasp, their noses touching just barely as she’s flattened against him. 

“I know you’re super independent, and that’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I’m sensing a but coming.” She whispers nearly against his mouth.

“But I want you, _all_ of you.”

She looks up at him, her hand sliding up his chest.

“What are you saying?”

“Not saying, _asking_...”

“Okay.” She concedes. “What are you asking?”

“What are we?”

He watches as she contemplates for a second, her body still and tense against his. He doesn’t mean to add to her stress, knowing that going back home is enough for her as it is, but he can’t handle her leaving without at least knowing where they stand.

“I mean, I like you, I love you—you know that.”

Blake hums. “I love you too. It’s just, we’ve said that to each other multiple times now but you’ve still never called me your boyfriend.”

The word is out there now, and he thought it would feel way heavier to speak those again, labelling their relationship like that. Instead, he feels relief.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” She asks, and the surprise in her voice catches him off guard.

“I want everything with you, Gwen.” He replies honestly, hooking his arms around her back again. “I know this isn’t easy. I know the press will be on us like never before, and you hate that. I also know that this thing we have…. it’s worth it.”

“Baby….” Gwen huffs, the sound not easing his worries at all. “You’ve literally just caught a break with these rumours, are you sure you want to throw yourself in the lion’s den again?”

“I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”

“You have me.” She retorts, smoothing her hand up his chest again. “You can have me without the label, too. I don’t need it.”

“You don’t need it or you don’t want it?”

Gwen looks up at him, her eyes looking at him nervously.

“I just want things to calm down a bit.” She admits.

“They’re never gonna truly calm down, Gwen. That’s the price we pay for living this life; we will always have people caring too much, invading privacy. I don’t mind waiting for you baby, but I just don’t want you to wait for something that will never come. It’s not fair to us.”

He knows it’s a risk to throw everything out there like that, completely aware that she might run for the hills. He’s not oblivious to the fact that Gwen would rather keep this under the wraps for now, but he’s too invested in this to be her dirty secret.

“I don’t know what to say.” She whispers.

“The truth.” He answers quickly. “What do you want?”

She swallows roughly. “I want you.”

Afraid to jump to any conclusions, he stays silent, and she proves that decision to be right in the next second.

“But can’t we just take it slow? Just enjoy the way things are right now without putting a name to it? Things are good this way.”

He can’t help himself then, slowly backing away from her, losing the soft touch of her body pressed against him.

“Blake…”

“I just need to know you’re on the same page about us.”

“I am.” She nods ferociously. “I want this, I want you. I just…. I’m literally going home and I won’t see you for a few weeks, and on top of that my ex seems to be keeping track of me, and you’re talking about going public and I just— “

“So that’s what it is?” Blake interrupts, holding her confused stare. “You’re afraid your ex will give you a hard time when the news comes out?”

She shakes her head. “No, I— “

“Cause Gwen, I’m talking about labelling this for us. I’m not saying we need to tell the media about our relationship.”

“Things like this always come out.”

“So it _is_ about him?”

She looks down, her hands nervously raking through her hair.

“It’s not just about him. It’s everything.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I need some time to process all this, okay? I mean, I came here to write with you and I’m leaving with a boyfriend. None of it is how I planned it.”

“God…” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Are you ever gonna be able to truly let someone in? To just say fuck it, and give up control?”

“You think I haven’t let you in?” She asks offended, sighing. “I’ve let you in from the moment we met. I _waited_ for you, I’ve been there for you, from the start.”

“Gwen— “

“No, no you don’t get to play that card. You can’t just say you want me and expect me to drop everything. You can’t just have me on your terms, your timing. You wanna talk about unfair? _That’s_ unfair, Blake. You’re really fucking unfair right now.”

Her outburst stuns them both into silence, staring at each other. He doesn’t know how he always seems to get here with her, but he’s starting to think they have the cruellest of timing.

He takes a step forward, but Gwen dodges his wandering hand with a soft scoff.

“Gwen, please come here.” He stops dead in his tracks, but his hand stays reached out to her. He motions for her to come closer, his eyes pleading with hers not to make him ask again.

Reluctantly she takes a step closer, allowing his hand to tug her closer to him, holding onto her wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, taking notice of the way her eyes don’t meet his, and the glistering tears she tries so hard to conceal. “I don’t mean to make you feel pressured, or forced to do this only on my terms. It’s just…We’ve been waiting so long for this. I can’t just let you leave without at least letting you know I want more.”

She sniffles. “You don’t think I want more?”

“I don’t know what you want, Gwen. That’s kind of the problem.”

She finally looks up at him, wiping hastily along her eyes to get rid of the tears staining there.

“I’ve been dreaming about being your girlfriend for way longer than you have dreamed about me being yours.”

He shoots her a small smile, his thumb stroking along her wrist. “I doubt that.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

He shakes his head. “So why do you keep fighting it so hard?”

“Because….” She sighs. “Because I’m scared, Blake. I’m scared that things will change once we label things, or once people find out. I’ve never been lucky in love, Blake. I’ve never felt this good with someone, ever. I can’t handle the thought of that changing, not when I’m going home, not now…. I need this to stay good. I need you.”

By the end of her rant, she’s crying and this time Blake tugs harder at her hand, causing her to stumble into his chest. He keeps her tightly pressed against him, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known it was too much right now.” He murmurs softly against her hair, letting her sniffle against his chest. “Things aren’t gonna change between us, I promise you that. I’ll show you. We don’t need a label for that, I’ll wait for you. Just like you did for me.”

She looks up at him with puffy eyes, swallowing. “It’s not what you want.”

“No.” He admits honestly. “I wish you were more confident in your ability to find happiness with someone, but I also don’t blame you for not doing so. I can wait, I will wait.”

“I just wanna get settled in.”

“Take your time.” He breathes against her hair, rubbing her back gently. “Just promise me you’ll talk to me; whether you’re freaking out or having doubts—you gotta keep talking to me. Don’t shut me out.”

She shakes her head. “I won’t.”

“We’ll make this work.”

Now it’s her turn to seek reassurance from him.

“You promise?”

He chuckles. “I promise. It’s you and me now.”

*

The sun is low on the horizon by the time she sinks onto the park bench, rays of light streaking the city in between long shadows. She reaches for her hair, loosening it from the tight bun she twists it into every morning. She’d loved getting into the studio again, writing for a more up and coming artists, who was eager to learn from her and take her advice, but she also loves to be done for the day.

She loves this city, even though she’s loved it slightly less the last few years. She had seen first-hand what living in this place could do; tear her love life apart in the blink of an eye—make her feel like nothing she’d ever do would be enough to reassemble the shattered pieces of her life.

It might be stupid to attach that to a city, but she couldn’t quite explain the stain LA left on her psyche when she left it.

Being here again, settling into her familiar house and surroundings for the last three days had been easier than expected though. She’s not sure if it has to do with her own soul being more at ease these days, or the calming phone calls she has with Blake each night.

As if the universe could hear her thoughts, her phone starts buzzing in her pocket and she smiles when she sees it’s Blake.

“Already missing me, huh?” She teases, skipping the formalities.

He chuckles on the other end of the line.

“How about you get your ass back on a plane to Nashville and let me show you how much.”

She should’ve known that he would reciprocate her words with much more teasing ones of his own, shifting uncomfortable on the park bench.

“I wish I could, babe.”

He hums softly. “How was your writing session?”

“Good.” She smiles, remembering the young girl and the talent she saw blooming right in front of her eyes today. “She’s adorable, and super talented too. Kind of a mixture between folky and pop. It was cool.”

“You guys wrote a song?”

“More like started it. We’re going back in the day after tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure she’ll bring some ideas with her to finish it. The floodgates kinda opened for her, you know?”

“You sure have that effect on people.”

She smiles, already feeling nostalgia about the sessions she had with Blake, even if they only ended a few weeks ago.

“Gosh I wish I could see you right now.” She whispers, standing up as the cold is starting to get to her.

“You will soon, I’ve been finishing up these final details about the album release and I think my schedule is going to be pretty empty up until the actual release date.”

Gwen nods enthusiastically, walking towards her car.

“I can’t wait for it to come out.” She breathes, feeling the excitement for him. “But I also can’t wait to have you to myself again.”

“It’s going to be worth the wait, baby.” He promises, and she has no doubt that it will.

Meeting Blake had been an unexpected reminder that a world exists outside of her carefully constructed walls, a world where people are good and kind and hopeful. It’s never too long to wait for people like that.

“Will you call me again tonight?” She asks, and she doesn’t even care if she sounds needy.

He laughs. “Darlin’, it’s the only thing getting me through the day.”

She smiles as she lets herself into her car, just listening to him breathe for a while.

“I love you.”

It’s not often that she’s the one initiating those three words, but right here in her car, a whole state away from him, it’s the only thing she can think of to say.

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

These phone calls with Blake are becoming of even more significance the more days’ tick by. After a week of being home, she’s starting to realize that she misses him way more than she ever thought possible. A few months ago, she didn’t even know he existed in the world. Now, he was all she could think about.

She’s relieved she’s at least back in the studio—working, writing, distracting herself of the lack of Blake’s presence in her life.

It’s funny how all this time she’s referred to this time as going home, though it feels like that’s the last thing she did. Sure, she did see her family more again, and she had spent the whole evening yesterday gossiping and talking to Lizzie, but things just weren’t the same here anymore. Her sense of home belonged elsewhere now.

Her mind wanders off to _his_ arms, the way she went star gazing with Blake that night on his ranch, or the night they spend together after his listening party. The whole sentiment of home being a roof and four walls with personally decorated touches was becoming a bit fuzzy. Maybe home was a feeling. Maybe home was _him_.

The feeling only intensifies when she walks up her patio, the familiar house staring back at her only missing one person to truly feel like home.

Her key has just turned the lock, when a familiar voice stops her in her tracks.

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

She looks back in surprise, opening her mouth to tell him off, but the words dying on her lips. She recognizes those brown eyes from anywhere, the smile on his lips apparent but forced. She doesn’t want company, especially not his, but she seems more stuck on the fact that he’s here than finding the words to speak.

“Can I come in?” Jake asks, stepping forward but not yet standing on the patio.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Gwen please, I haven’t seen you in _what_, seven months?”

She doesn’t make any claims to be a professional at this, but she can’t help but try and read his body language. His eyes spell sadness and the lines painting his forehead suggest fatigue. She hates how a part of her still produces worry for the man standing in front to her.

“We’re broken up.” She says softly, not necessarily out to hurt him, but also not at all planning to let him set foot in her house. “We’re not supposed to still see each other.”

“Just a moment.” He dismisses, stepping closer and she automatically tightens her hold on the doorknob. “Please.”

She shakes her head, turning around to turn the key once more, waiting for the door to fall open. “I’m sorry.”

She goes to close the door, startled when his foot prevents it from closing all the way.

“Jake.”

“So the rumours are true then? You’re dating that country guy from Nashville?”

She shakes her head, feeling her heart rate picking up by the sheer change of tone in his voice just now. She knows that tone all too well; the one that predicts no good, the one she’s been running from all these months.

“You need to go, now.”

“I can’t believe you.” He snarls. “First you ruin my life, then you just pack up and leave and shack up with the first available guy you can find?”

Though his words hurt, she’s determined not to take the bait.

“You’re embarrassing yourself. You need to go home.”

With a force that she didn’t see coming, he uses his hand to push the door open all the way, causing her to take a step back. She struggles with finding her footing, rushing to stop him from taking any more steps into her home.

“Leave.” She says more strictly this time, her hand on his arm trying to push him backwards. “I’m serious, you either leave or I’m calling the cops.”

She prays with everything in her that it doesn’t have to get that far, that she doesn’t have to call the cops on the person she once believed was the love of her life. She waits it out for just a few seconds, when it becomes apparent he has no plans to leave. Shaking her hand off him, he steps forward again and she reaches for her phone reluctantly.

No sooner than she can unlock the screen of her device, it’s being snatched out her hands. Her gasp follows when she can hear the screen shatter against the wall a mere second later.

Her eyes widen, fear finally starting to overtake her.

“What are you doing?” She stammers, hating the way he’s backing her further into the living room, even farther away from the door.

“You can’t just leave me like this, Gwen.”

His raw emotional voice clashes with the aggressive look lingering on his face, and she’s forced back into that unknowing, unpredictable cycle they always fell victim to. She never knew whether an emotional admission was coming or a destructive hurricane was about to hit, and the memory causes her to feel the anxiety everywhere.

“I won’t let you.” He ventures after a moment of silence.

She shakes her head.

“Are you drunk? Listen to me, you need to go home, you _can’t_—” She tries to rush past him, but his hand grabs tightly onto her arm, pushing her firmly against the nearest wall.

The force in which she got slammed into the hard concrete has her whimpering in pain, the tight grip of his fingers around her slim arm bring another rush of pain.

“Y-you’re hurting me.” She whispers, trying to yank her arm out of his embrace.

Instead of letting go, he squeezes harder, and she can recognize the moment in which he snaps. She tries to use her free arm to block what she knows is coming, but she’s too late. The sound of the back of his hand colliding with her face bounces off the walls, the taste of blood staining her lips and the inside of her mouth.

Her heart is racing, her body trembling as she tries to block off another series of blows, but the effort is futile. The storm in his eyes tells her the worst has yet to come, and when another impact comes to her abdomen and she loses her strength to stay upright, she realizes her home is harbouring a storm much larger than these four walls can take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC..


	21. You Got A Broken Heart To Kill

She begins to stir, the tense feeling in her body alarming her—something was off. Her arms were aching and she must have slept on them awkwardly because there were pins and needles and a numbness she couldn't quite dispel. She opens her eyes, half expecting to see her bed, outlines that told her she was home, but instead she sees cold white sheets and walls; the sterile hospital smell causing her to scrunch her nose.

She tries to move, to turn, but her body seems to be exhausted; it feels like she’s floating, hovering almost. She draws a deep breath, trying to ascertain what’s happening as her mind continues to be a scrambled mess.

She must be dreaming.

But instead of her dream becoming clearer, it’s the flashing image of being kicked down repeatedly, as her arms and legs try to shield her body from the blows. It’s the image of someone’s palm flat against her mouth, muffling her screams as she feels another punch to the gut. There’s a strange disconnect between consciousness and not, because the images keep getting blurry before sharpening again. Her whole body feels like it’s shaking and it takes her a while to realize that it actually _is_.

Almost on cue, a nurse comes in, her smile sweet as she starts talking to Gwen. She tries to focus, but all the words pass her, unable to register.

Another wave of images hit; her back being pushed against the wall, strong hands keeping her from hitting the ground as he forces her to take the blows standing upright. She feels her eyes tearing up at the memories, and this time the voice of the nurse _does_ cut through her flashbacks.

“Miss. Stefani, my name is Sandra Laulock. Can you do me a favour and take three deep breaths in?”

Gwen tries to do as she’s told, but her lungs don’t hold the air long enough for her to exhale properly. The woman’s voice speaks again.

“Again, three breathes.”

She tries again, this time managing at three shaky breathes. It’s not much, but she can feel her mind starting to assemble again, her surroundings becoming a bit clearer.

She can tell she’s hooked up onto a single monitor, keeping track of her heart-rate. There’s an IV going into her right hand, transparent fluid being transcended into her veins.

She looks at the nurse questionably.

“Where am I?”

Her voice sounds rough, her throat hurting with the effort to speak.

“You’re at UCLA Medical Center. The doctor will be with you shortly to explain everything. In the meantime, we’ve got you hooked up on some medication to help with the pain.”

“Pain medication?”

The nurse nods. “It’s important for your body to get some rest. I know you probably have a million questions and they will all be answered soon. I’m just gonna ask you to trust me, can you do that, Gwen?”

She feels too tired to fight, her head so heavy she can’t help but sink further into her pillow. She nods her positive answer.

“Good.” The nurse says. “We’ve called your emergency contact, she’s on her way. Is there anyone else we can call for you?”

Blake.

Her heart stutters as she thinks about telling him. Waves of guilt and embarrassment hit her deep in her gut, and she feels the tears sting in her eyes as she shakes her head.

“Okay.” The woman concedes. “Get some rest, we’ll be back in here to check on you shortly.”

Gwen closes her eyes, a new set of memories making its way back to her. This time, she’s alone. The feeling of the cold, hard floor beneath her hurting her battered joints even more. She can see herself trying to crawl towards the phone that was left on the floor after crashing with the wall, before slouching back down onto the ground.

She fights the current urge to open her eyes—stop these images from clouding her frontal lobe, but she _needs_ to remember. She forces the trip down memory lane to continue, seeing herself finally making her way over to the device, using her fingertips to unlock the shattered screen. It’s all a blur, until it suddenly isn’t.

Her eyes open on a gasp, the hospital room still empty, though she knows it won’t be for long.

She dialled Blake.

Things start making even less sense; how did she get here? Did she call 991? Did Blake? What did she tell him?

She remembers none of it and it causes her panic levels to rise again. Knowing she needs to keep herself calm, wanting to spend as little time as she can in this hospital bed, she starts taking deep breathes again. She remembers Sandra’s earlier words, repeating those three breathes over and over.

She must’ve dozed off at some point, because when she comes to, the Doctor has just gotten to her room as well. Her eyes adjust to the taller figure, his smile friendly.

“Gwen, my name is Dr. Harold’s. How are you feeling?”

Gwen swallows roughly, her eyes still adjusting to being awake. “Sore. My whole body feels…like I’ve fallen down a pair of steps.”

“You’ve suffered severe bruising to your ribs and lower abdomen, that can certainly cause the ache and numbness there. We’ve got you on a dose of morphine to help ease some of the pain.”

“How bad is it?” She whispers, feeling like he’s not giving her the full extent of her injuries just yet.

“You’ve got several fractured ribs.” The older man states calmly. “Along with a concussion from the blows to the head. You’re going to need a few days to regain some strength, but none of your injuries are irreversible or permanent. You’re going to make a full recovery.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she feels the dampness on her cheeks.

“Did I call 911?”

“Your friend did. He’s on his way now.”

She should feel relieved at the news, but instead it does the opposite. She doesn’t want to face anyone, let alone Blake. She shakes her head, looking at the Doctor pleadingly.

“I don’t want anyone else in here.” She says softly, but determined. “I don’t want visitors.”

“Visiting hours aren’t here yet.” He speaks in understanding. “No one is getting in here until you’re ready for it, but how about we cross that bridge when we get there?”

Gwen nods, feeling another stream of tears flow down.

“Can you tell me on a scale from one to ten, how bad the pain is, Gwen?”

She bites her lip. “Six.”

Dr. Harold’s nods. “I’ll get a nurse in here to up your dose, does that sound like a good plan?”

“Yes.” She answers hoarsely.

He nods. “You’ll be up to your max for the day, then. Take your rest, try to sleep. Your body needs it to recover.”

She wants to stay awake, give her subconscious no chance to further taunt her with flashbacks or dreams, but the medicine being pumped into her veins along with the weakening of her body after the attack, makes it so she can’t keep her eyes open to save her life.

*

He’s never driven so fast in his life, the last couple hours of his life being a complete blur. He vaguely remembers getting her call, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. He sent an ambulance her way without even knowing a single detail about what happened, he only knew something was wrong—very wrong.

He hopped on the quickest flight he could get to LA, probably obtaining a million speeding tickets while he took off in the rental car he had waiting for him at the airport. He rushed towards the ER, the large halls making him dizzy, the thought of Gwen lying here somewhere making him feel physically ill. It drove him crazy not to know the extent of her injuries—or if she even had any—and his head was pounding with the many scenarios he thought up for himself.

He’s damn near out of breath when he reaches the front desk, unable to speak eloquently. He can only get out her name and some vague question about her wellbeing. He’s directed towards the waiting room to his right, the nurse unable to provide him with any details. He fights the urge to go off on the poor woman and instead rushes his way towards the large, sterile waiting area.

He expected to be the only one there, since he didn’t think Gwen had the opportunity to call anyone else yet, but a short woman stands up almost immediately when he walks in, her eyes red and face screwed up in worry. She holds her hand out to him and he shakes it weakly, still confused.

“I’m Lizzie.” The woman identifies herself, probably sensing the confusion on his face. “I’m Gwen’s emergency contact, they just called me. You must be Blake.”

The name rings a bell quickly, as he recognizes Gwen’s friend from the many stories she’d shared about her. He smiles weakly before sitting down in a plastic chair next to hers. He rubs a tired hand across his face, closing his eyes for just a second.

“What the hell happened?” Blake whispers, shaking his head.

“I don’t know.” Lizzie replies just as frustrated, just as worried. “They couldn’t tell me anything. They told me I had to wait for the doctor, but he still didn’t come out here to inform me.”

Blake shoots another look at the reception behind the large white doors, sighing deeply.

“God damnit.”

It’s a helplessness he’s never felt before, the feeling of getting sick only intensifying. He didn’t even know how he was still breathing, feeling like he could collapse any moment. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the thought of Gwen. She needed him, even if she couldn’t see him right now. He needed to be strong for her.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Lizzie asks, eyes sad and fearful. “They would’ve come out by now if it wasn’t anything serious. Gwen would’ve been here by now if— “

“We can’t think like that.” Blake cuts her off, trying his best to sound sweet, though the words she just spoke spark the most brutal kind of protest in him. “She needs us to stay positive, okay?”

The shorter woman nods, her hand raking through her hair.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“They have to inform us soon.” Blake tried to deflect, though nothing pointed at anyone telling them shit.

After half an hour of waiting, he stood up forcefully, making his way to the front desk once more. He’s not surprised when they try to brush him off again, but this time he’s not so eager to comply. He’s about to make a scene, but his body feels too weak to do much of anything and his mind is spinning. He tries to get more information out of them, anything, but they’re relentless at keeping their lips sealed.

Lizzie shoots him a saddened look, realizing he got nowhere. He sinks back down into the chair, shaking his head.

“This is ridiculous.”

Right when Gwen’s friend is about to go on a rant of her own, their moment is interrupted by a doctor walking their way, causing both adults to stand up lightning fast.

“My name is Dr. Harold’s, I’ve been treating Miss Stefani since she came in tonight.” The doctor explains, looking at both sympathetically. “Are you two family?”

“I’m her best friend, I was contacted as her emergency contact, this is her boyfriend.” Lizzie nods towards Blake, who can barely manage at a polite smile.

“You called 911?”

It takes Blake a second to realize he’s being talked to, before he nods. “Yes sir. How’s she doing? Is she okay?”

“Miss Stefani suffered multiple fractured ribs, along with a concussion. She’s stable, but she’s in out of consciousness due to the heavy pain medication she’s on." 

Blake’s hand reaches out for the stool behind him, feeling his legs close to giving out. He looks at the Doctor as if he grew two heads, nothing making sense to him.

“What the hell happened? Where is she? I need to see her.”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t authorize on any visitors yet. In my experience, victims of an assault like this sometimes need time to process before they can handle being in the room with anyone else. You can wait here until the next visitor’s hour—we’ll be sure to inform you when she’s ready.”

He tries to process everything he’s being told, but his mind is stuck on only one thing.

“You said assault, who did this?”

“Unfortunately we can’t share that information with you yet, Sir. The police will be here later to get her statement. Right now, we’re focusing on getting her strength up so she can get out of here as soon as possible.”

“But she’s going to be okay, right?” Lizzie asks, the information coming to her slowly.

Dr. Harold’s nods. “She’s going to make a full recovery.”

Some of the breath Blake lost in his lungs finds its way back, but his body still feels like it’s floating more than it’s grounded.

“She called me.” Blake muses out loud, looking up at the Doctor. “She called me, why wouldn’t she want to see me?”

“The human mind doesn’t always make sense, especially after an altercation like this. All I can tell you right now is that she’s going to be okay, and we’re keeping a close eye on her, monitoring her all night.”

Realizing he’s not gonna get much more information than that, he nods, letting himself slouch back into the chair, all strength drained from him. Lizzie follows his lead soon enough after the doctor announces his departure. The silence that’s left between them is painful, neither one knowing what to say. Blake’s stunned by the course of events, but he’s even more stunned by the fact that Gwen apparently made it clear she wanted no visitors. The fact that she was hurting somewhere and he couldn’t get to her, was the worst torture possible.

“She’s going to be okay.” Lizzie says. “That’s all that matters, right?”

“Right.” He replies through gritted teeth, feeling his eyes well up.

He can’t help the many thoughts that fly into his head, the possibilities of what could’ve happened to her while he wasn’t there to protect her. Though he knows zero details, he’s starting to piece some things together for himself. He hopes he’s wrong, but everything points to her ex being back in the picture.

He thinks back to how she told him about the weird text she received from Jake, right before she went home. He thinks about how he asked her if he should come with her, and how she’d quickly turned down that offer. He’s unable to keep a few tears in as the regret of that decision washes over him.

He just wants to see her. He wants to see with his own eyes that she’s okay, that she will be okay. He wants to hold her, press kisses to her hand and face, tell her he’ll never let anything bad happen to her ever again. More than anything, he wants to tell her how much he loves her, how much it scared him to think that he could’ve lost her.

He can’t do any of that though, the thought of Gwen not wanting to see him hurting more than he could’ve ever imagined. He pushes the feeling away, hating himself for being selfish, hating himself for making this about him while she’s the one suffering in a hospital bed.

It feels like hours, sitting in those shitty plastic chairs, his joints feeling like he’s been sleeping on hard wood for a week. He nearly cries out in pain when he shoots out of his seat at the first sight of police arriving. Lizzie puts a hand on his arm, in effort to calm him down. He wants to go in with them, he wants to know what the hell is going on, but he doesn’t even have to ask to know that’s impossible. He closes his eyes when they disappear in what appears to be Gwen’s room, and his heart constricts painfully at being so close yet so far away.

“Maybe after she talked to them…” Lizzie starts softly, her voice betraying her doubts.

“She can’t do this.” Blake whispers, his voice cracking. “She can’t shut us out.”

“She’s the strongest person I know.” Her friend exclaims softly. “She might need a few hours to get her head straight, but she’s not going to dismiss us forever.”

“When she called me….” Blake trails off, remembering her weak and shaky voice, wincing internally. “She sounded so broken, so defeated. It didn’t even sound like her.”

“But she called _you_.” Lizzie says. “Her first call wasn’t 911, wasn’t me, wasn’t her mother—it was you. That girl loves you so much, there’s no way she won’t want to see you soon.”

He looks at her gratefully, the words the only thing keeping him from losing his fucking mind.

They sit like that for a while, his eyes locked on the closed door that separates him from Gwen. His eyes shoot up when the door opens again, the two police officers walking out towards their area. Blake’s out of his seat again and this time Lizzie follows.

“Any news?” Blake prods, his voice impatient.

“We’ve gotten her statement. She’s shaken up but lucid.”

Blake nods. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“She got attacked in her home. We’re not authorized to share any more details unless you’re immediate family.”

Blake’s eyes nearly pop out of his sockets, his control currently on the floor.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me? I can’t go in to see her, no one can tell us what the hell happened—that’s my girlfriend in there!”

“Sir, I’m aware that this is a very delicate situation…”

“You’re not aware of _anything_.” He can hear the volume of his voice rising, but it’s like an outer body experience, having zero control over his actions. “I need to go see her.”

He makes a move to walk past them, but two strong arms keep him from going far. He turns back around to see both police officers halting his movements.

“Unfortunately you can’t go in there, Sir.”

“Blake, hey.” He recognizes Lizzie’s voice, her soft hand on his arm meant to anchor him, but right now it just felt like one more person trying to restrict him, keeping him from Gwen. To make matters worse, the nurse from before walks in on the slight altercation too.

“Mr. Shelton, we promise we’re taking the utmost care of your girlfriend. We need you to stay calm, as it’s in both her and your best interest.”

“What’s in _our_ best interest is for me to be there right now.” He counters, shaking his head.

“That’s not a possibility, Sir.”

“I don’t give a damn.” He yells, taking a few steps away from the people crowding him, raking a hand through his hair while turning to face Lizzie. “Fuck, I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

This time, her hand on his arm does calm him down, reminding him of the fact that he’s not the only one being shut out, he’s not the only one going out of his mind with worry.

“We need to stay strong for her, we can’t lose it.” She speaks to him softly but sternly. “We need to keep it together.”

Blake nods, though the words feel almost impossible.

He holds it together long enough for the police officers and nurse to leave, leaving him and Lizzie alone again as they’ve been for hours. He looks down at Gwen’s friend, noticing the exhausted look on her face as well.

“Blake, you should stay here by yourself. When she’s ready, she’ll probably only be able to see one person at a time, and it should be you.”

He looks at her a bit shocked, feeling horrible about silently agreeing. “Lizzie…”

“It’s okay. I’ll go home and try to get a few hours of sleep. I’ll be back here in the morning, hopefully she’s up for some visitors by that time.”

“I’ll text you if there are any updates.”

Lizzie nods gratefully, exchanging numbers quickly before she leaves the hospital. He feels even more drained after being left alone, the weight of waiting suddenly only his to carry.

He sinks further down into the chair, his eyes threatening to fall close after another hour or so.

He’s almost afraid he’s hallucinating when he sees the Doctor approach again, the look on his face one of pity and understanding. Blake tries to ignore the way it makes him feel, fighting the sore ache in his legs as he stands up again, this time feeling a bit faint.

“Is she okay?”

Dr. Harold’s nods. “She’s asking for you.”

Blake’s heart nearly combusts at the words, tearing up by default.

“These technically aren’t visitor’s hours….” The man continues, looking at him and Blake’s sure the Doctor is taking pity. “But she’s on the private wing and she’s stable. You can stay in the room with her as long as she’s up for it.”

Blake nods gratefully, words failing him.

Luckily, he’s met with only understanding.

“Follow me.”


	22. It Ain't All That Bright

She opens her eyes slowly, blinking as she tries to adjust to the now almost completely blacked out room. She’s lost all sense of time since being admitted here; the only times she’s aware of the actual hour of the day is when the doctor comes in to check on her. The IV injecting pain medication into her system helps her to feel more at ease, finding her eyelids to be incredibly heavy, but at least the pain is gone for a while.

She senses something different though, and she moves almost instinctively. She winces harshly when a sharp pain shoots through her and she almost chuckles at the irony; she always did speak too soon. She catches a movement in front of her eyes and finally focuses enough to sharpen the image, opening her eyes completely.

His face is blurred around the edges at first, but becomes clearer when her sight adjusts again. His brown curls and blue eyes make recognition dawn quickly.

“Blake.”

He’s standing by her bedside, leaning over her a little with a look of concern clouding his handsome features. She wishes she could reach out and get him to lie down with her, but she knows that’s impossible with the current battered state of her body.

“I’m right here.” He whispers, taking a seat next to her bed, his hand sliding carefully across hers. He avoids the place where the needle is injected, sliding his hand over her fingers and squeezing. “I’m here.”

She nods, closing her eyes once more. He looks so tired, so scared, and she feels the guilt course through her body. It’s still hard for her to let him see her like this, but she knows that the waiting must’ve killed him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” She lies, her voice scratchy as she’s barely been using it.

The silence between them lets her know that he’s not buying it, and he’s also too tired to come up with a response that would satisfy her. It’s almost like he’s a bit annoyed at her lie, and she’s grateful the darkness of the room makes it impossible to read his facial expressions to perfection. She’s equally as grateful for his hand remaining right where it is, not letting go of her fingers.

“The Doctor let you in?”

She catches Blake’s soft nod. “Yeah, he did me a favour.”

Her face screws up in a bit of confusion when Blake’s free hand gently moves to her chest, fingers tracing over her heart as if he can’t believe she’s alive. The move is so gentle, yet so deliberate that she can’t help the tears that form in her eyes. His hand moves up to her chin, fingers tracing her bottom lip and cheek, before his palm goes to cup her there softly.

“I’m so sorry, Gwen.”

She swallows to get rid of the lump in her throat, but it remains there regardless. She feels like she should be the one apologizing to him, but she can’t get her mouth to work. His hand continues to linger on the side of her face, his head leaning closer until his forehead touches hers. Her eyes screw shut, a few tears making their way down her cheeks.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened yet.” Blake whispers, his thumb grazing the top of her hand. “But I want you to know you’re safe. I’m gonna keep you safe, I promise.”

Part of her wants to tell him everything that happened, disclose the statement she made to the police and take away any worries he might have about her attacker coming back. But she can’t do any of that. Truth is, she doesn’t know anything and for all she knows her statement gets paid dust and they believe him over her. Though the cops promised her a thorough investigation, hopefully followed by a quick arrest, she can’t get her mind to think positive. All she feels is fear and disappointment; disappointment at herself for allowing things to get this far, the hard press of embarrassment tightening up her chest.

“I love you.” Blake speaks softly against her cheek, the hand cradling her face dropping back into his lap and she misses it immediately.

“I love you too.”

She doesn’t look at him to see the relieved expression on his face, but she can hear the breath that escapes him, the one he apparently had been holding in. She feels terrible for making him feel so unsure about so many things, but she can’t get the thought of Blake seeing her as some sort of victim out of her mind.

“I’m so tired.” She exclaims, feeling like a coward for using that to get out of any further questions or conversation he might want to have.

“Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Her body is too tired to do anything but succumb to the idea, the feeling of Blake’s hand still squeezing hers the only thing that keeps her from going under, the drowning feeling she’s experiencing not leaving her alone until she’s fast asleep.

*

“He’s wrong, I feel fine, I can leave.”

She wants to scream, the Doctor’s order to stay in the hospital for another two days making her want to rip her hair straight out of her scalp. She hates the sterile air, the white of her bed and the walls, the constant reminder of her attack.

“Sweetheart, it’s just two days. The Doctor even said that if everything goes well, you might be out of here by tomorrow night.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Blake.”

“Maybe we can ask Lizzie to come over tonight, keep you company, distract you a bit….”

She knows he’s trying, but her frustration is mounting and she’s helpless to fight it. She sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair. Her legs are a bit sore from having laid down for so long and finally getting up to walk with Blake to get her own glass of water. She’d wanted to stay out longer, but Blake had been strict about getting her back to bed as soon as possible.

He’s looking at her sympathetically, realizing that she’s struggling to keep it together. Normally, she would love his care, but now it’s just emphasizing how weak she feels. She desperately wants to feel normal again, pretend like none of this ever happened. When Blake tries to convince her to call Lizzie again, she can’t help but snap.

“I don’t want Lizzie to come here, I want to fucking go home.”

“You can’t, so why don’t you use your energy for something else besides fighting your recovery?”

Her eyes snap up at him, not expecting that reaction at all. She can tell he’s scolding himself silently for getting agitated, but he doesn’t verbalize that to her.

“I don’t like it here.” She whispers, no longer able to keep her rebellious, stoic act up.

“You’re going to be out of here before you know it.” Blake answers, his voice calmer again, his eyes soft. “Just let them monitor you for a few more nights, get your strength up.”

She nods, the fight slowly draining out of her.

“Are you staying?” She asks.

“That’s the plan.” He nods, before looking at her a bit fearful. “Unless you don’t want me to…”

“I do.” She affirms, biting her lip. “I’m sorry for denying you access earlier.”

His own eyes water and she hates herself for it.

“I just want you to be okay, Gwen. If time is what you needed, I understand.”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Blake sighs. “Gwen, being there for each other means through the good and the bad. You can’t hide things like this from me, and you don’t have to.”

“You’re gonna think I’m weak.”

He shakes his head furiously. “I could never think that.”

“You should.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Never mind.” She whispers.

“Gwen.”

“I just feel useless lying here, doing nothing.”

She can tell he’s surprised at her short reply, but she ignores it in favour of staring out in front of her. She quickly becomes aware of his piercing blue eyes still intently focused on her.

She cocks her head to the side. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She sighs. “_What_, Blake?”

“I just feel like there’s way more to that story.”

Of course he does. She knew he wouldn’t give up so easily. She hesitates for a moment. She could tell him the half-truth, keep the details to herself and wait for him to figure it out at a later time, or she could just be honest—tell him everything and pray to God that he’ll still continue to see her as the Gwen he’s known her as. She doesn’t particularly feel like doing the latter, but she also didn’t have the energy to concoct an elaborate lie.

“I let him in.” She whispers, closing her eyes. “I couldn’t keep him out.”

She can hear Blake’s sharp intake of breath, obviously bracing himself for part of the story he’s been dreading; the reason she’s in here, the person he couldn’t protect her from.

“Jake.” Blake whispers, both a statement and a question.

She realizes he needs to get at least that clear for himself, hear it from her mouth and have it be confirmed instead of it just being a steady assumption in his mind.

She nods. “He just showed up after we got off the phone and I got home.”

“Gwen…”

“I told the police, they said he’d be picked up for questioning right away.”

She wants the subject changed, away from the details of her attack and to the better part, the part where they don’t have to worry about him anymore.

“Pick him up for questioning?” Blake retorts, anger deeply rooted into his voice. “They need to fucking arrest him on the spot.”

Gwen swallows. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

The absolute rage in his voice startles her, the soft but hateful way he just spoke those words causing her to look up at him warily. “Hearing you say that doesn’t help me.”

“What _would_ help you?” Blake asks on a sigh, raking a hand through his curls. “Because Gwen, I want to do it, I really do. I just can’t sit back and do nothing— “

“That’s literally all you can do.” She retorts, voice breaking. “It’s all I _want_ you to do. Stay here, sit with me, don’t leave me alone.”

It’s much more vulnerable than she planned on being, but she’s tired and scared. Scared that Blake’s rage over the whole situation will get him into trouble, scared that she’ll never be herself again, scared that this will finally break what she and Blake have built together. All she wants right now, is for Blake to just be here. To love her, for however long that might last.

He reaches out for her hand again, bringing it to his lips.

“I’m here baby.”

She nods silently. “Maybe we can call Lizzie after all?”

Blake smiles. “Of course!”

Truthfully, she’s not that excited for her friend to come over. She wishes she could hide away here, just have Blake see her like this, and let that be the only one. She wants to keep up appearances, tell everyone she’s doing fine and that things aren’t so bad. But she’d kept her friend waiting long enough, and from what Blake had told her, she’d been equally as afraid. She felt like the most horrible friend, and it was time to just suck it up and invite her over. At least Blake would be there in case she’d completely shut down.

So, that’s how she spends the next few hours; Lizzie comes in twenty minutes after Blake calls her and after it becomes clear that some distraction from her best friend is exactly what she needs, Blake takes it upon himself to go back to Gwen’s place for a change of clothes. He’d asked her for reassurance at least five times, not feeling comfortable with leaving her alone if there’s even a single shred of hesitation from her. She tells him it’s alright and she means it. Lizzie talks to her about work, and asks Gwen about hers, and for a moment it feels like things are okay, like she’s not in a hospital bed recovering from the injuries inflicted by someone she used to consider her lover.

After dinner and another check up from the nurse, Blake is back at her bedside. She’s been lying in bed for most of the day, and the urge to get up and walk around is too much for her to ignore. She knows she’s unable to do any extensive physical strain, but a few steps must be okay. Remembering the ice machine down the hall, she suddenly has an idea.

“Blake.” She nudges him, causing him to look up.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Help me up?”

Blake’s brows raise, his head shaking before she can even tell him where she wants to go.

“Gwen baby…”

“I just want some water with ice. Just help me up.”

He looks at her reluctantly and she sighs in return. Deciding not to wait for him, she pushes herself up further, until she’s far enough to carefully turn her body so her legs dangle of the side of the bed. Blake grunts in frustration before getting up himself, walking around to stand in front of her.

He holds his hands out for her as he realizes she’s about to try it herself, and she grabs it before moving. She suddenly feels a bit nauseous, the shooting pain in her ribs making it much more desirable to lay down again. She fights it, being determined to at least take a few steps. The doctor did say that a few steps a day would help, if it was possible. Blake might say she’s pushing it, but she can’t get herself to care right now.

Finally finding the strength to pull herself down, she holds onto his hands, panting. Her legs feel wobbly as she stands in front of him, her eyes trained to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Blake asks worried, his arms holding most her body weight, and she knows that if he decided to pull back his hands, she’d probably stumble onto the ground.

“Yeah, just a second.” She breathes, trying to ignore the ache in her side.

“Gwen, just lay back down.” Blake urges.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Gwen, I can feel you shaking, you’re not fine.”

“_I’m fine_.” She hisses, letting go of his hands as to prove a point. Though the dizziness is still there, she surprises herself—and him—when she stands rather stable on her two feet.

She can tell Blake is hating the situation, but he stops fighting her. She’s thankful she’s off the IV and instead gets her pain medication in the form of pills now, that way she doesn’t have to drag the pole stand with her. It also gives her enough hope that maybe this will be the last day she has to spent in this hospital.

She links her arm with Blake’s, following his slow pace as they walk towards the end of the hall. She stops occasionally when a wave of short but intense pain causes her to wince and forces her to take a few deep breaths. When they get there, Blake fills them both a cup of ice water, handing it to her. She gulps it down quickly, not even realizing how thirsty she was until the cold beverage slides down her throat.

The walk back is slightly less complicated, the pain ebbing away a bit. That is until she sets foot in her infirmary, an intense pain shooting through her entire body as she freezes on the spot. Blake immediately looks at her fearfully, tightening his hold on her arm.

“Gwen?”

“Just….” She breathes through the shockwave of pain, closing her eyes. “Jesus.”

“Gwen, come on, I’m getting you back in bed.”

She nods as she tries to walk a step closer, but her feet feel like there are stones tied to them, the dizziness increasing at a rapid pace. Trying to fight through it, she takes another step, this time getting a little further before she falls back into Blake’s chest.

“Oh God.”

Everything becomes a blur then; Blake calling for a nurse, him holding her in place as they wait for help, his voice speaking soft encouragements to her, even though she can’t register any of them fully. She feels herself wince, cursing internally as two staff members help get her settled back in bed, Blake’s presence never once leaving her side through it all.

She doesn’t know exactly how long it took for them to be left alone again, she also didn’t realize the IV came back, and for some reason that felt like the biggest setback of all. Blake’s still sitting next to her, his hand laying heavily on her thigh.

The whole situation makes her bottom lip quiver, her eyes becoming glossy under the sheen of tears.

“You can’t be this hard on yourself.” Blake says suddenly, and she wonders if she said any of her thoughts out loud or if he’s just that good at reading her.

She swallows hard, her breath catching. “I wanna feel better.”

“I know.” Blake whispers, sliding his hand up to cup her cheek. “I want you to feel better too.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone would get a little snappy at being here for too long.”

A few tears escape her eyes. “You’re so good to me and I’ve been so shitty to you.”

“That’s not true at all. You don’t have to act happy or pretend to feel better than you do, okay? You’re entitled to feel pain, or to feel hopeless. I know I can’t do much, but I promise you’ve got me. You don’t have to do this alone—those days are over.”

She suddenly can’t spend another moment not being close to him, and she urges him forward with a gentle hand motion. He carefully leans over her, smiling softly when her hand pushes on the back of his head. When his lips press on hers gently, she lets another few tears fall. He wipes them away without breaking their kiss, pulling away when she seems calmer.

“I love you.” She whispers.

She keeps her eyes open long enough to see him say the words back to her. Falling asleep has always been easier while knowing he loved her.


	23. Just Some Roughed Up Desperados

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who still love this--thank you so much. I'm forever grateful

She winces as she bends down to pick up the pieces of the dinner plate she’d just dropped, the pain in her ribs still evident. She’d been trying to organise something resembling dinner, when the plate slipped from her grip. She’s been much less focused, clumsier, ever since the attack took place and she came home from the hospital. She collects the shards and deposits them into the bin in the kitchen.   
  
It’s been four weeks since she got discharged from the hospital, Blake had stayed with her for the first two weeks, not letting her out of his sight. Though she appreciated his protectiveness, she couldn’t deny that it felt good to have her place to herself again. Having him hover over her, making sure she’s alright, started to get on her nerves sometimes, and she didn’t want to take that out on him. Not when his only motive is to help.  
  
And he did. He helped her by buying groceries, cooking her dinner, even bringing her breakfast in bed. It also helped having him there for the nights she was terrorized with nightmares and flashbacks—the feeling of Blake’s arms wrapping around her after waking up in a cold sweat, the only thing that could came her down. He’s helped her go through the conflicting emotions of hearing Jake had been arrested and charged with assault. He’d been there for it all, and she wants desperately to do something for him in return.   
  
She curses when she realizes dinner has started burning on the stove, getting rid of the shattered plate on the ground making her forget all about it. She rushes to turn off the stove, eying the food that’s most definitely ruined. She doesn’t know why, but she feels a stream of tears pass her cheeks, swallowing past the lump in her throat.   
  
Blake’s coming over again tonight and she really wanted to cook for him, show him she’s feeling much better and has taken it upon herself to do much of everything she used to do before. She’d even opted to go to the studio again today. It had been a good day up until now. She throws away the burned food, taking a deep breath in to calm herself.  
  
She takes a water bottle from the fridge, taking a large sip as she lets the cold liquid glide down her throat. She’s in the middle of contemplating to order take out when the doorbell rings. Trying to prepare dinner had also made her forget all about time, which she realizes as she’s about to open the door in fitted sweatpants and a matching blue hoodie. She runs her hand through her hair as if to sort whatever mess she had made with it. It was in a loose ponytail, having had no time to fix it.  
  
She opens the door to find Blake gazing at her sweetly, holding a large pizza box. She shakes her head as her eyes fall to the content in his hand, and then back up to him.  
  
“Hi there.” He smiles.  
  
“Hi.” She whispers, stepping aside to let him in. “How did you know....”  
  
He turns to her when the door closes, using his free arm to urge her forward. She steps into his embrace, loving the way his head lowers against the top of hers, just breathing her in.  
  
“You told me you were making dinner three hours ago, baby. When you didn’t reply to my text asking you how things went, I figured they _didn’t_.” He speaks to her softly, as she can feel his smile against her hair. “No one takes that long to cook up some pasta, sweetheart.”  
  
She chuckles, though she still feels disappointed in herself for screwing up dinner.  
  
“I really wanted to cook for you.” She whispers.  
  
“Next time, darlin’.” Blake answers sweetly, letting her go in favour of moving towards the kitchen. “The doctor did say to take it easy for the following weeks, you know? Getting over multiple fractured ribs could take up to six weeks, you’re only at week four.”  
  
She shrugs it off. “I’m fine.”   
  
“Sure you are.” Blake says less than convinced, following her into the messy kitchen. She wastes no time in reaching up to grab a couple of plates from where she’d tried earlier before she dropped it, and feels that familiar pang in her ribs again. She steps back from the open cupboard when Blake reaches over her to easily retrieve two plates.  
  
She swallows roughly.  
  
He gives her a small smile, and she realizes in that moment how transparent she’s being. It’s always been hard for her to let people take care of her and since Blake has done nothing but that for the past few weeks, she’s starting to get desperate to show him she’s fine.   
  
Placing a few slices on each plate, he looks at her awaiting. She takes her plate with her to the couch, sitting down carefully as she waits for Blake to lower himself next to her. She didn’t even realize how hungry she was until she’s through her first slice in less than a few minutes. Blake looks at her with a smile, though his frown is slightly worrisome.  
  
“Did you eat at all today?” He asks.  
  
“These painkillers make me feel woozy.” She replies, as if that takes care of the question. “Makes me feel too tired to eat.”  
  
“Gwen.” Blake shakes his head. “You need to eat.”  
  
“I know.” She says, taking another bite of her pizza, licking some of the remnants off her finger. “I just wasn’t hungry.”   
  
She feels bad for being so short with him, but she’s tired and sad and she just wants to feel like herself again. They eat the rest of the pizza in silence, his gaze never quite leaving her though.  
  
“How’s the pain?”  
  
She was growing the most tired of that question, but she tries her best to hide her irritation.   
  
“Fine.” She lies, getting up when she realizes both of their plates are empty, while carrying it to the kitchen. She puts the empty box in the trashcan, rinsing both plates in the sink. It doesn’t take Blake longer than ten seconds to join her, watching as she puts the plates to the side and rinses her hands in the process.  
  
“Gwen….”

She shakes her hands dry and Blake’s quick to hand her a towel from next to him. She reluctantly takes it, avoiding his eyes.  
  
“How’s the pain?” He asks again, and she realizes he’s subtly calling her out on her lie.  
  
“It’s fine, Blake. Really.”  
  
The words are spoken through gritted teeth, as most of the painkillers she’d taken earlier today had worn off. She’d been more active than she’d been in a long time, and she was starting to feel the effects of that now.   
  
“Can I see?” He asks softly, reaching for the bottom of her hoodie.  
  
She swings around before he can lift it. “Blake, please.”  
  
“What are you so scared of?”  
  
The question catches her off guard, not realizing her fear was so obvious to him. She doesn’t want to let him see, doesn’t even want to think about the bruises staining her skin there or the slightly irritated skin from having a tight bandage cover it for the last few weeks. She’s finally without one now, but she can still feel the itch and redness from before.  
  
It’s a cruel reminder of what happened, and looking at it only makes her feel weaker. Blake’s support has been everything, but she’s also scared that his view of her will change, after all this. She liked being the independent, slightly mysterious girl to him. She doesn’t want _this_ image of her branded onto his frontal lobe.   
  
“I’m not scared.” She says, giving him a look like he’s insane for even suggesting it.  
  
He’s silent for a bit, scratching his cheek.  
  
“Did you take all your pain medication for the day?”   
  
She shakes her head. “I can still have two more.”   
  
Blake nods. “At least let me get those for you.”   
  
She wants to fight him on it again, tell him she’s perfectly capable of getting her own pills, but she doesn’t. She knows he’s still struggling with the fact he couldn’t be there to protect her from what happened and all he wants to do now is try to help. She nods without so much as looking at him, but it doesn’t deter Blake.  
  
She makes her way upstairs, feeling too tired and to fed up with everything to stay downstairs. She lets herself lower onto the large bed, nuzzling her face in the few stacked pillows. Her body feels heavy as it presses into the mattress, her ribs making it hard for her to find a position that works.   
  
She settles for lying still on her back, closing her eyes as she tries to block out the ache. It’s a soreness that she never quite encountered before, feeling like someone’s pressing down ruthlessly onto the bruises scattered along her ribcage. 

Blake’s figure appears in the doorway a minute later, a glass of water and painkillers in his hand.   
  
He sits down next to her, the bed dipping slightly. She winces again when the movement causes a bit of discomfort, and Blake’s hand moving some stray hairs out of her face feels strangely appreciated. It’s the soft gesture against the piercing discomfort that makes it that much more enjoyable.   
  
“Here.” He says softly, hooking an arm around her back to help her sit up. “Easy.”   
  
She grunts a little, using his arm to help herself up.   
  
“Thank you.” She whispers, taking the pills from him and swallowing them down with a large gulp of water. She closes her eyes again, leaning against Blake’s frame.  
  
“You wanna lay down?”  
  
She nods.  
  
Blake positions them so she’s lying on her back again, Blake’s long legs stretched out next to hers and his arm around her neck while his hand rests on her shoulder. His finger rub there gently, and it’s not long before she feels herself drifting off.  
  
“Blake?” She mumbles, not even sure if she’s talking.  
  
“Hmmm?” Blake answers in the form of a hum.  
  
“I’m glad you’re here.”   
  
She’s pretty sure he knows, but she hasn’t been able to tell him that much in these last few weeks. She’d been so caught up in her own mess, she couldn’t always muster up the strength to feel positive about anything. But Blake’s help has done wonders for her stability, and she truly believes she wouldn’t have been able to get back to work as soon as she did, if Blake hadn’t showered her with so much safety and reliability. It had made her healing process much more bearable so far, and she wants him to know his efforts are not in vain.  
  
Instead of answering her verbally, he places a soft kiss to her temple. He holds her as close as he can without hurting her, and it’s exactly what she needs. 

She closes her eyes again, this time letting the pain medication and Blake’s calming presence lull her into unconsciousness.

*

His patience has been a godsend thing, something she didn’t realize she was taking for granted until she went without it. The day started off wrong from the moment she got up, everything just feeling wrong. She had a shitty session with her artists at the studio, she was frustrated with how each time she seemed to be doing fine, a few minutes of sharp pains would remind her that she’s indeed not back to herself quite yet. It’s been five weeks since it happened; she’d expected to be without any pain by now and it showed her optimism can be the cruellest mistress. Blake came home early from Nashville to be with her, but when he got there he was beyond tired and she got annoyed when he didn’t want to stay up with her. She knows it’s selfish, but she needed him and going right to sleep just hadn’t been what she expected. It felt like disappointment after disappointment.

She tried shaking off the bad studio vibes as she entered her place, but frustration had settled deeply underneath her skin by now. When Blake moved from out of the kitchen and grabbed her hips gently, trying to tug her against him, she shook her head. Her hand pushes against his chest, cheek turning when he tries to kiss her.

Her reaction startles him, as he lets go immediately.

“What’s wrong?” He asks spooked, eyes a bit wide.

“Nothing.” She says, brushing past him. “I’m just not in the mood.”

She swallows roughly, throwing her keys on the foyer and disregarding her jacket onto one of the kitchen island stools. She grabs a glass from the upper cabinet, filling it with water and closing her eyes as she feels Blake’s presence follow her. He stands closely, but not touching, his hand leaning on the counter behind him. 

“Okay.” Blake nods. “Did everything go well at the studio today?”

Gwen nods, keeping her head turned away from him, knowing he’ll be able to spot the lie on her face immediately.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

She takes a gulp of water, eyes still closed.

“Are you feeling anxious?”

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Gwen baby, give me something here... help me understand.”

She turns around fast at his words, anger suddenly reaching a boiling point— anger that’s not meant for him at all.

“Why does me not wanting you right now have to mean anything other than just that? Is that why you came home earlier, you were horny?”

He looks at her like she just slapped him, and in some ways, maybe she has. She knows it’s unfair, they haven’t had sex in weeks and he’s been nothing but supportive. 

The silence between them is unnerving, but she would've gladly taken hours of that silence over his next words

“You’re being the worst, you know that? You don’t think I would’ve loved being in Nashville and _not_ be worried sick about you? You don’t think I’m getting tired of constantly walking on egg shells around you? Trust me, if I wanted _pleasure_ I wouldn’t have come here.”

“Blake.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. You want me to be there, but you don’t want me. You want my support, but you’re not honest. You pull me in just to push me away and goddamn it Gwen, I physically can’t do it anymore.”

It’s like a dam has broken and she’s desperate for it to stop, though she can’t think of a single thing to do. Her heart hammers against her chest, eyes burning painfully.

“How can you say these things to me?” She says softly, her lungs working overtime to hold on to any air. “You said you wanted to be there for me.”

“Cause I thought that was what you wanted, what you _needed_! It just seems like my presence here only does the opposite of helping.”

“I didn’t ask you to come home sooner.”

She doesn’t know why she settles on saying that, and Blake’s bitter chuckle tells her she only made things worse.

“No you didn’t.” He replies. “You don't do anything; you don’t call or text, if I don’t reach out myself I won’t even know how you’re doing.”

She bites her lip so hard she winces, the earlier anger coursing through her once again.

“I’m trying, Blake! I’m trying to pick up the fucking pieces of my life, to not give up and feel defeated 24/7. I’m trying to keep going. I’m sorry for being a bit busier with that, than I am with texting my damn boyfriend.”

Blake scoffs. “This is pointless.”

Only three words shouldn’t hurt this much, she’s sure. It’s unclear of how exactly he means it; whether he’s talking about the conversation, their relationship or just her. 

“Then why are you still here?”

He turns around faster than her sentence left her mouth, his hand slamming against the wall as he walks past it. He gets as far as her hallway before turning back around, stopping his steady strides when he realizes she followed him. 

Stopping in front of her, he rakes a hand through his hair. 

“I’m not gonna do this push and pull with you, Gwen. I’m just not.” 

She knows what he’s saying, she understands the warning and somehow that makes her even angrier.

“I don’t care about what you do.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Then don’t. What do you want me to say, Blake? You want me to drop to my knees and beg you to stay? I won’t do that.”

He sighs deeply, shaking his head. 

“You’re so damn scared, you’d rather ruin the one good thing in your life than accept the fact that you’re loved.”

She inhales sharply. The pain she’s been in physically nothing compared to the pain of Blake ripping open her chest with his words, his truth. No matter what she does, or how hard she loves, she’s always in pain. She fights so hard to have the upper hand only to get crushed by it. She’s tired of losing. Tired of hurting. She feels the crumbling of her world like the most terrible loss, heartbreak so prominent she succumbs to the rage of it all.

She surges forward, hands balling into fists as she bangs on his chest. The first time only gets his breath to hitch in surprise, but the second and third time have him staggering back a bit. 

“You’re terrible!” She yells, pushing against his chest, fisting at the fabric of his shirt before releasing it. “Fuck you, Blake.”

She bangs against his chest again, his hands trying to capture her wrists. 

“Gwen, stop.”

“Fuck you.” She cries, continuing the pounding against him. In response to him trying to grab a hold of her, she cries more, sobbing through her rage. 

He’s successful at holding her wrist, pushing them flush against his chest. She pushes with her shoulder to try and get out of his grip, causing his back to hit the wall as she stumbles into him. His hands give her little to no leeway, causing her to whimper and struggle against him. Her side starts hurting again from being so tightly pressed to him, and she can see him struggling with his hold on her; not wanting to hurt her. She forces the issue by being unable to stop her assault at his chest, causing him to not let go yet.

“Gwen, stop, hey.”

“I love you! How can you say that to me? How can you tell me you don’t want to be here, that I’m the worst? I needed you, I _need_—“ She’s cut off by her own sobs, her body too tired to physically fight him any longer. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers against the top of her head, his hands still having her wrists pinned against his chest. “I’m just scared, Gwen. You scare me.”

She melts against him, torn between wanting to force herself out of his grip or let him hold her while her whole world comes down. He makes the decision for her as he lets go of her hands, his arms sliding carefully around her back.

“That doesn’t give you the right to say these things to me.”

“You hurt me.”

She knows he’s talking about mentally, but the guilt about what she just did to him _physically_ settles in quickly. 

“You’re asking too much of me.” She lies, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m asking nothing of you, Gwen. All I ask is for you to love me.”

She looks up at him, her eyes red and puffy.

“You act like that’s easy.”

She wants to punch herself for the way the words came out, and Blake’s tensing beneath her is painfully obvious.

“It is for me.” He says.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She whispers.

“I think you did.”

His arms slide off her back and for a moment she thinks he’s letting go— for good—but his hand slides up her face, cupping her cheek.

“Tell me, Gwen.” He urges, forcing her gaze up to his. “The truth, I deserve that much.”

He does. He undoubtedly deserves that- and so much more. She doesn’t understand why giving it to him is so hard for her.

“Blake...”

“Do you love me, Gwen?”

“You know I do.” 

He sighs deeply, seemingly bracing himself and his next question explains why.

“Do you _want_ to love me?”

The answer is so clear to her, but her mouth seems unable to produce the words. She looks at him sheepishly and she knows her confusion about everything else has just been read as a negative answer. The thought startles her even more, the prospect of losing it all paralyzing her.

“Blake I.....I’m...” She stammers out broken words, her breath catching as Blake’s hand drops from the side of her face.

He grimaces.

She knows something just broke.

“It’s okay, I already know.”

“Blake.” She cries, and she wishes the sound wasn’t so damn weak.

“I love you, Gwen.” He smiles weakly, his eyes filled with tears. “Enough to let you go, enough to set you free.”

His words stun her, though she’s not surprised.

Out of all the things she has broken, Blake Shelton has got to be the worst.


	24. Drink On It

She wipes her eyes swiftly, putting all her weight against the opposite wall. Blake has left more than forty minutes ago, but she still hasn’t been able to move out of the hallway. As easy as she thought it would be to let him walk out that door tonight, as hard as it proved to be in actuality. 

She has no idea where he possibly could’ve gone, and she realizes how much of their relationship has been about her. She doesn’t even know where he goes when he’s sad or defeated. She guesses home as in Nashville, maybe even Oklahoma. She knows he feels trapped here in Los Angeles and he’d never stay here if it weren’t for her.

Blake has been a dream, something for her to get lost in. She had never experienced a connection like the one she felt when she started working with him. Their music seemed to flow out of them when they were together and she could barely fight the magnetic pull she felt between them. 

It had always felt too good to be true, but recently she’d allowed herself to believe that it could truly be this good. She let herself believe in a happy ending with this man, despite her lousy track record. 

Most importantly, she promised Blake a safe place to fall. She promised Blake something real, and instead she’d pushed him away when all she really wanted was to pull him in. She let him walk out that door like it was the easiest part of their relationship and she hates herself for it. She hates herself for making him believe loving him is hard. 

Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. Her chest heaving violently. 

In a moment of strength, she rushes up the stairs, retrieving two more painkillers and popping them in her mouth quickly. Trying to lay down on the couch, she attempts at some shut eye. She checks her phone every few minutes, not really expecting anything from him but still secretly holding out hope that he might. 

It dawns on her how much she’s truly been able to lose in such a short amount of time. Past traumas seemed to weave themselves around her heart like a vice, preventing anything good or healthy to live in there for longer than a few months. Blake had always been careful with her heart, but somehow he’d managed to erase all that when he finally decided the weight of her heart was too much to carry. Though she wants to be mad at him for giving up on her, she can’t blame him for finally growing tired.

Her head has stopped pounding for the time being and her ribs are surprisingly free of any ache. The medication seems to do all it should except for allowing her to fall asleep. 

It’s an hour before she caves, reaching out for her phone and dialling his number. She gets his voicemail right away and though it’s expected— it stings. 

She wonders what he’s doing, if he misses holding her in his arms as much as she misses being in them. There’s so much sadness flowing through her, she’s surprised she’s not crumbling under the pull of it. Instead, she feels less inclined to sleep and more determined to get to him.

Sitting up with her back against the arm of the couch, she wipes at her tired eyes and tries again, holding her phone closely against her ear.

“Blake, it’s me. I just want to know if you’re alright I guess. Or if you’re staying in LA. Just let me know something, okay?”

She rolls her eyes at her own words, realizing how ridiculous they sound. Of course he’s not alright, and he’s upset with her, so he won’t let her know anything. It’s all so maddening, so _logical_, she wants to rip her hairs out.

At least if his anger had been unjustified, if his sadness had been a result of anything other than _her_, she could’ve dealt with his pulling back better. This time it’s her own fault and she can barely breath. She can barely find her way through the guilt settling in her chest, pushing against her like dead weight.

She calls him one more time without leaving a message, letting out a quiet sob. She feels herself panicking but she pushes it back for now; she wants to fix what she broke; she wants to at least tell him that none of the things she said tonight are how she actually feels.

She wants him to know she still wants him.

Her finger slides across her phone screen, her nail tracing his name in her contacts. She scrolls down absentmindedly when her eyes fall onto Brandon’s number. She’s really not excited about letting anyone else in on their mess, but she realizes he might be her only hope. 

The phone dials three times before he picks up.

“Gwen, what a nice surprise.”

His cheery voice actually manages to bring a tired smile onto her lips, her throat feeling dry when she needs to speak.

“Brandon, I’m sorry to be calling this late.”

Her throat feels like she’s been crying for hours and it takes a while for her to realize that she has.

“Not a problem.” He dismisses. “Everything okay, Gwen?”

“Blake and I had a fight. I don’t want to bother you with the details but he left my place and I just feel like I need to go after him. I just don’t know where to look.”  
  
There’s a silence on the other end of the line, and she’s unsure if his manager is taking pity or judging her, but right this second, she decides that it doesn’t matter.

“You’re in LA?”

Gwen hums, her eyes burning. “Does he like to go out here?”

“You know just as well as I do that he hates that place. I’ve only ever heard him talking positively about LA when he was talking about you.”

What’s meant to be a compliment hurts her like nothing else could, her eyes closing painfully.

“Has he contacted you about coming back to Nashville?” She whispers.

“I don’t think he’d notify me of that, hun.”

Her breathing hitches, her desperation reaching an uncomfortable level. 

“I messed up.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” His manager says softly, trying to calm her down in the same way she’s heard him address Blake before. “He loves you so much. I doubt he’d give up that easily.”

“You weren’t here tonight, Brandon. You didn’t hear the things I said, the things _he_ said.”

“I know he used to go out to bars whenever he and Miranda got into it, back in Nashville.” Brandon tries gently. “Any place open nearby?”

Gwen’s mind races a mile a minute. She’s not a bar person herself, the last time she’s been in one was _with_ Blake. She can barely name two bars here in Los Angeles and she never imagined she’d one day be kicking herself for that.

“What if he went home?” Gwen asks panicked.

“If that’s the case, he’d have to catch an earlier flight out. When did he leave?”

“About an hour and a half ago.”

“It’s worth the shot.” Brandon says.

“It’s too late.” She replies, voice cracking. “He’d never be at the airport anymore.”

“Gwen this is LA we’re talking about— he might be.” She’s starting to rely on his calm voice, though she can hear the slight hesitation there now too. “I really don’t feel like he left already. I just don’t think he’d do that.”

Gwen desperately wants to share the same believes, but she can’t get her mind to do so. It’s cruel how a part of her had to die to feel this foreign burn of anticipation, this crackle of need in her guts that makes it undeniable to admit Blake’s hold on her. A hold much stronger than she gave him initial credit for. A hold that she would fight tooth and nail if it were anyone other than him.

“I just want to make things right.” She whispers, the tight clenching feeling of her heart has aching ripples outstretching to her ribs.

“Then go do that; find him and tell him how you feel.”

His words as the final piece of encouragement she needs as she forces herself off the couch. Her shoes and jacket are thrown on quick, saying an even quicker goodbye to his manager on the phone. 

She’s grateful the medication didn’t make her woozy this time, though she still knows it’s a risk to drive. She can only hope he’s still here and chose a bar nearby. 

Nothing about tonight screamed things would go her way though. 

She grips the steering wheel tightly, praying to God that she’s not too late to find him. 

*

“Another one.” He rasps, voice hoarse.

He eyes the next shot glass being passed down to him, the burn of someone’s stare having been obviously present for the last ten minutes. He’s been counting down the moment she’d get together the courage to finally address him. 

Ever since his growing fame, he’s been used to the stares, or the way women just found it a little bit more intimidating to walk up to him in a setting like this. 

“This seat taken?” The sweet voice asks, and he suppresses the urge to chuckle.

His countdown was spot on.

“Be my guest.” He replies, locking eyes with his new company just for a second, before gazing back in front of him. 

“I’ll have the same he’s having.” He hears the voice next to him speak to the bartender.

Despite his reluctance, he finally lets his eyes linger on the girl to his right. She’s definitely younger than him, her long brown hair curling around her shoulders, a tight red dress that shouldn’t even be called that, as it falls incredibly high on her thighs. She looks at him with a mischievous smile, her lip gloss reminding him of Gwen’s.

Damn it.

“Ally.”

He wants to slap himself when he realizes his blatant staring just got translated into something else. Not wanting to come off like an ass, he gives her his best smile.

“Blake.” 

“I know.” The girl chuckles and this time he can’t help but groan.

“Of course.”

“I promise I’m not that type of girl, though.”

He wants to laugh at that; it’s ironic how everyone seems to be hiding parts of themselves, how everyone just tries to be seen in a better light. The same way he was tricked into believing Gwen would continue to choose him. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He says, taking in her confused expression. He decides to make his intentions clear from the start. “I’m not here for that, really. I’m just here to drink a few drinks and not think about the shit show that’s become my life.”

Her eyes widen. “Honest. I like it.”

“I don’t like to waste people’s time.”

She grins. “I think we could do the opposite.”

He doesn’t think he even wants to hear the answer, but his mouth works before his head can stop him.

“How’s that?”

She smiles filthily. “You just want to forget, so do I. I think we can help each other do that, and not waste _any_ time.”

He chokes on his next shot, her words and intentions so clear it’s shocking. He doesn’t know why either—he’s always been much of the same way, he’s used to being around people who did little to nothing to hide their desires, but something about this woman is unpredictable and dangerous in a way he can’t quite anticipate.

“Ally, right?” He asks, wanting to be sure before he addresses her further.

“Good memory.” She laughs.

“Listen, you’re a gorgeous girl and— “

“Let’s not do that.” She insists, cutting him off.

Blake’s brows shoot up, head shaking.

“Do what?” He asks, confused.

“Be so formal, so boring.”

“Did you just call me boring?”

The wink she gives him is nothing short of dirty and once upon a time he would’ve gone with it. She wants easy, possibly dirty and isn’t opposed to having one night together and never seeing each other again. He basically just broke up with his girlfriend— he can do whatever he wants with _whoever_ he wants. 

He almost hates himself for how much he still wants Gwen though.

He doesn’t know what it is, what it’s always been about her since the first day they met, but it floods him with such certainty, such longing. He’s never felt anything even remotely close to this for anyone, and it terrifies him.

The pull to Gwen is stronger than any fear he could possibly have though, and just like that he’s filled with anger all over again, at the fact that it appears to be different for Gwen.

He realizes he just totally zoned out on the girl to his right, and he can’t tell if that makes him a decent person or a lousy one.

“Really not interested, huh?” She chuckles.

He looks at her with more sympathy now.

“I’m sorry.” He groans. “I’m— “

“You warned me.” She giggles and he realizes suddenly that she’s been downing just as many shots as he has and she’s not faring too well anymore. Her small frame appears a little less stable on the stool and he bites his lip at the sight.

“What brought you here tonight?”

He figures her reasons might be similar to his, by the way she’s drinking these shots like they’re water. 

“You don’t want to sleep with me but you want to hear my personal crap?”

He winces, her brazenness once again reminding him of the one person he came here to forget. 

“You’re right, forget it.” 

“It’s not even worth talking about.” She relents later, still smiling that damn smile that makes him want to either walk away or walk into his own demise— both feeling equally fucked up.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Some people just aren’t worth the tales.” She says, leaning into his space until her shoulder is touching his. “Something tells me you understand.”

He grimaces again, only for a whole different reason this time. He turns to look at her, a small grin adorning her lips even as she speaks the pessimistic words.

He shakes his head. “Not this time.”

“When did it happen?”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it at all, but something tells him this woman won’t let it go until he relents. He’s also too tired, too drained to fight much of anything.

“Tonight.”

“Fresh.”

He snorts. “No kidding.”

She shrugs. “Shit happens, you can’t fall for people and expect it to end well.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause people are the most unreliable beings on the planet. Plus we’re selfish.”

Blake shakes his head again. “She’s not.”

“Then why isn’t she here right now?”

It’s a question he doesn’t want to answer, for he doesn’t quite know the answer himself. He’s gone over tonight’s events a million times by now, but he’s still surprised at the ugly turn it took. He and Gwen were supposed to last; he feels that everywhere. So how come he’s here right now, without her? He does his best at answering the question, hoping that somehow it will provide him with the right one.

“Life happens.” Blake speaks softly, avoiding her eyes. “Sometimes what we want just doesn’t match with what we need.”

“Or that’s what we tell ourselves to feel better after getting ditched.”

He’s suddenly over this conversation, pulling away.

“Are you just here to depress me? Because I really don’t need more of that right now.”

Her eyes sparkle. “That wasn’t my initial idea, but you made it clear you’d rather do this than do me.”

“Christ.”

“I’m drunk.” She slurs. “My proposition still stands, though.”

“Good to know.” He brushes off. “You should go home, sleep this off.”

He doesn’t even know why he cares, but something about this girl is endearing even though she’s also getting on his nerves. Maybe it’s the fact that she appears to be just as messed up as he feels.

“You coming with me?” She asks one final time as she stands up on shaky legs. “I don’t know her name, but I’m sure if you say yes, you wouldn’t either by the end of the night.”

Again, his mind stutters at the filthiness of it all. It reminds him of when he just started out, the way he would take love for granted and only indulge in the situations that would last less than twenty-four hours. It reminds him of the bitter taste of lost love, betrayals he endured at the hands of his ex-fiancée and the beginning sparks that flared up between him and Gwen in the studio. It’s dirty, it’s new and for a split second he lets his mind wander, ever so slightly.

Still, his head shakes a firm no, closing his eyes briefly.

“Suit yourself.” She smiles, and he can’t wrap his head around how this mess of a woman still manages to radiate light somehow. 

She takes a few steps before losing her balance and Blake scolds himself when he’s next to her in a second, holding her up. 

“Changing your mind?” She slurs.

“I’m calling you a car.” He replies, closing his tab and paying for hers simultaneously. 

He walks into the cold air with Ally still on his arm, her weight mostly resting on him. He tries to ignore the way her hand wanders to his chest sometimes, or the way her nail suddenly grazes the short stubble on his chin.

“A real Prince Charming.” She giggles. “Who knew there was such a gentleman underneath that stoic demeanour?”

“Anyone ever tell you you talk too damn much?”

She looks up at him sheepishly. “Only a few times.”

He continues to hold her, waiting as he calls her an Uber. Nothing about tonight has gone the way he planned it, his life sometimes feeling more like a movie he doesn’t know the plot to. 

“She’s a lucky girl, you know?” Her small voice exclaims suddenly, doe eyes looking up at him.

He chuckles bitterly. “I don’t think she agrees with you.”

She just shrugs.

“If she doesn’t, there are plenty of us out there who do.” 

*

“Has he been here?”

She feels fatigue settle into her bones, her body heavy as she forces herself into the third bar of the night. She’s been driving for what feels like hours, asking about him to any bartender who’s willing to listen, her gut sinking as she’s only finding negative responses.

She started to believe he didn’t actually stick around when this one man in particular looks up surprised at her question.

“Blake Shelton, I couldn’t believe it to be honest.” The bartender sounds like a fan and if she weren’t so desperate and tired she would’ve smiled at it. “You just missed him though.”

She silently says a quick prayer to man upstairs, trying to keep a hold of herself long enough to get more information from the guy.

“When did he leave?” She asks, her mind reeling about the possibility of him still being nearby.

“About 30 minutes ago. He left with some girl, I think they were calling a cab.”

Just like that, her hopes come crashing down, tears springing to her eyes. She never knew the world could come crashing down on her so many times, but she can barely find the strength to move her limbs under the crushing weight of it all.

“Thank you.” She whispers, rushing out of there as fast as she can. 

She nearly runs back into her car, locking the doors before slamming her hands down onto the steering wheel. When her car key slips out of her hands and under the seat, she breaks.

She lets out a loud wail, her sobs a continuous string as she lets all her sorrow spill out in the privacy of her car. She cries for all the rage and heartbreak she’s been harbouring, her head leaning over the dashboard. 

Her chest feels tight, her heart feeling like it’s physically cracking. She let out a raw cry that startled herself, her body shaking violently as she lets the loss of love and sanity cover her like a thick fog. She tries to breathe through it, forcing herself not to start hyperventilating.

“_Please God._” She whispers, her hands tightening around the steering wheel again as she keeps her head down, indulging in another prayer. 


	25. Tight Grip On My Soul

She repeats the sentence at least six times, not necessarily knowing why, not even knowing _what_ she’s begging God for at this point.

The strength to move on without Blake? The possibility that the bartender could’ve been wrong? To keep her sanity?

She feels a headache coming again and her fatigue reaches a boiling point. She waits for the shaking of her hands to subside and for her vision to be freed from the blurriness of her tears, before she recognizes she needs to get out of this parking lot, back into the safety of her home. Gwen carefully searches for the keys underneath her seat, sighing in relief when her fingers retrieve the item as she puts the car in drive.

The drive back to her place has never felt so long, every memory she ever had with Blake playing like a movie in her mind, every song on the radio reminding her of her current situation. By the time she approaches her driveway, she feels like throwing up.

Her headlights illuminate a figure sitting on her front porch, her heart hammering as she makes out his silhouette.

Maybe she’s actually losing her mind, her fatigue and heartbreak making her see things she desperately wishes to be true. She carefully steps out of the vehicle, her keys pressed tightly into the palm of her hand as her eyes focus on what’s undeniably Blake.

He stands up as she approaches, looking equally as surprised as she is.

“Where did you go?” He asks, his voice sounding rough and emotional, the broken look in his eyes making her feel even worse.

She looks at him stunned. “Looking for you.”

He rubs at the back of his neck.

“I had to clear my mind.”

She can tell he’s been drinking, though he’s nowhere near drunk. The possibility of the bartender being right is now so undeniable; it stings like an actual cut. She can’t suppress the bitterness that coats her being, the thought of losing Blake to another so soon feeling like the worst type of failure.

“Did you?” She chokes out, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Clear your mind?”

“Not really.”

She nods. “You didn’t leave.”

She knows he understands what she’s saying, the fact that he didn’t leave California and decided to stick around, almost as telling as him showing up on her doorstep.

“I thought about it.”

The words sting, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she bites her lip and finds his gaze already on her.

“What made you stay?”

He looks at her knowingly, not saying the words. She knows she’s pushing, asking him for confirmation, reassurance on his love for her.

“I don’t know.” He replies, voice rough and low. “I tried getting my mind of things, but it just didn’t work. I wish I could stand here in front of you and tell you this would be easy for me, that I could leave and go back to Nashville and not think twice about it.”

She feels the words piercing through her skin, yet she wills herself to hold his gaze, trying her best not to show him the watering of her eyes.

“But that’s not how you feel?” She asks shakily.

“It’s not. You know it’s not.” He states, his voice suddenly a bit more defensive. “I needed to step away for a second, try to think of something else besides you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I looked for you Blake! I searched every damn bar around here, only to hear you were seen taking another girl out. You wanna tell me about that?”

He looks at her unimpressed and it infuriates her more.

“You think I’d be here right now if that were true?”

“I don’t know, Blake.” She struggles to keep up with everything, her eyes still teary.

She tries to keep her eyes locked with his, but her whole body feels like it’s shutting down. Her gaze turns back to the ground, her breath stuttering out of her like she’s forced to take them, and in a way, she is. “Just tell me please... did anything happen?”

It’s the question she really doesn’t want to ask, but is haunted by all the same. His gaze on her suddenly feels heated, and she feels her heart-rate picking up because of it. Blake’s silence is the biggest torture of all, and she’s close to screaming out when he finally talks.

“You’re unbelievable.” He shakes his head. “I’m here, I came back for you, how about we talk about that?”

She feels nauseous, pushing past him as she fumbles with her keys.

“A few hours.” She says, keeping her back to him, but knowing he’s close.

“What?”

“That’s how long it took you.”

The door flies open and she lets herself in, not bothering to close it behind her. She can tell he followed her inside by the door closing a few seconds later.

“Nothing happened.”

She turns around then, looking at him with the utmost discomfort; he looks drained, but handsome as ever. His words catch her by surprise and like a fool, she starts crying again.

“Gwen nothing happened.” He repeats. “I went to a bar and yes, I met a girl. We talked, she got drunk and I called her a car. That’s it.”

She has no right to be angry, not after everything she put him through these last few weeks. She knows she can’t make for one good argument after having broken on him the way she has tonight, but the thought of another love slipping out of her hands so easily, onto someone else, has her seriously close to another melt down.

“Why?” Gwen whispers.

“Why did I call her a car?”

Gwen nods.

“The girl could barely stand. It was the right thing to do.”

She can’t swallow past the bitter taste in her mouth, her body leaning against the dinner table. Even now, as he stands before her so weakly, he manages to talk about doing the right thing, he manages to appear so much more stable than she is.

Maybe it’s always been about that; maybe he’s always been the better person. She basically pursued him while he was still entangled with his ex, she shut him out when all he wanted to do was help and now she’s silently judging him for doing the right thing.

“The right thing...” She muses, her eyes staring at her feet. She hears Blake hum in silent agreement, and she tries to keep the new tears at bay.

She wishes the right thing to do for her was clearer, less grey. But she loves Blake and she’s not willing to let him go without a fight.

_The right thing._

She steps closer to him then, surprised when he keeps standing there, waiting for her next move. Her hands slide up his chest, pushing his jacket out of the way, her head lying down against his broad chest. Though it’s the place she feels most comfortable, right now, she feels like the right thing is the worst thing she could do to him—and she does it anyways.

“Gwen...”

“Don’t leave me.” She whispers, holding on to him tighter when she doesn’t get the physical response she hoped for; his arms wrapping around her feel like a distant memory already and she desperately needs to feel it.

“I came back.” He whispers, as if that fixes the whole mess they find themselves in.

“For me.” She says hoarsely, looking up at him and unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt. “Do you still want me, Blake?”

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes fixated on her fingers unravelling him piece by piece. She lets her nail graze down the exposed skin, pressing a kiss there to ease the soft burn. She slides her hand up over his heart, enjoying the way she feels his heartbeat underneath her palm.

“You know I do.” He replies a few minutes late.

“I actually don’t.” She retorts, voice cracking when she makes the admission.

His hand finally stops her demonstrations, forcing her head up to him. His blue eyes are a shade darker now and it sends a shiver down her spine. She never wants to see this man as hurt as she’s seeing him now and she feels the guilt again like a slap to the face. She wants to wince and look away, but he deserves better; she’ll give him all she can in this moment, even it feels like being ripped to pieces.

“Gwen, I’m gonna need to hear you say it. I want you, I want to be with you, but I can’t do this if— “

“I want you.” She interrupts him. “You’re the one thing in my life I feel like I’ve done right. I’m sorry for letting you walk out, and I’m sorry for the things I said tonight. I just... I’m frustrated, but not with you.” She realizes she’s crying when a wet spot forms on Blake’s shirt. “I’m just scared I’m gonna lose you, Blake. I don’t... I can’t.”

He looks at her like he’s not sure what to say, what to do. His hand drops from the side of her face, her body missing the soft point of contact immediately. His silence feels like the worst torture, her heart spilling all over him in this moment the most vulnerable she can ever recall herself being.

“Please say something.”

Blake nods, though his mouth doesn’t produce any words. Her eyes look up at him pleadingly.

“Please forgive me.” She whispers.

“You mean the world to me, Gwen.” He says softly, the words feeling like a caress, though she won’t let herself get comfortable with them yet. “I don’t want to let you go, you gotta know that’s the last thing I want.”

Gwen nods. “What you said earlier, about me being scared? You’re right. I’m terrified.” She feels herself getting worked up again, her eyes closing in relief when Blake finally allows his hands to wander to the small of her back, holding her. “I’m just so scared I’m gonna lose the one good thing I have left. I don’t want to mess that up, or burden you with all my baggage.”

Blake captures the hand that rests on his chest, holds her to him as his other arm makes its way around her lower back. Her words just now meant more to him than anything else she’s ever said and there’s no hesitation as he pulls her closer, welcoming her back in his embrace.

“Hey.” He murmurs softly, his breath hot and gentle across her cheek. “You know I hate to see you cry.”

“I’m so sorry.” She hiccups. “For being so horrible, for hurting you, for pushing you the way I did. I’m sorry, _I’m_-” she’s cut off by another wave of sobs, Blake’s arms quite literally holding her together the best he can.

“I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Blake assures her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know you’re struggling, you don’t have to hide that from me.”

“I don’t mean to be like this.”

“Gwen, you’re amazing.” He corrects her gently. “I just need you to keep communicating with me, don’t stop talking to me. Don’t push me away.”

“I’m sorry.”

It seems like those two words are the only ones she can remember, her vision blurry with tears but her body finally relaxing a bit as Blake continues to hold her close.

“I forgive you.” He whispers against her lips before kissing her briefly, a soft brush of lips. “And I love you. Do you trust me, Gwen?”

As if on cue, her hands fist his shirt to keep him from floating away. “I do.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but if we’re gonna do this, we at least need to establish some trust in that. I can’t be there for you if you feel like shutting me out every step of the way.”

She removes her hands from his grasp, allowing it to join her other one around his neck, softly stroking the hairs at the nape.

“I missed this, I missed you.”

“I’ve been here.”

She shakes her head. “I need more, Blake. I need to feel close to you again— in _every_ way.”

The meaning of her words becomes clear by the way Blake suddenly tenses against her, her heart bracing for the next possible rejection.

They haven’t been intimate since the attack took place five weeks ago, and though it were doctor’s orders and she was in no shape to go against them, it only seemed to hurt her more. She needed his closeness even through her confusing, conflicting emotions. Being in his arms, feeling him hovering over her, was the safest place she’d ever known. Somehow they managed to take that away from her too.

She hates how she proceeded to make him feel bad about that specifically, wanting nothing more than his closeness. She needs him.

“Baby...” He hesitates.

“I’m fine, I just... don’t make me beg for it. I need you.”

Something about her words must convince him, because as hesitant as he was a second ago, as fiercely does he cup her cheek and kisses her in the next. Her arms around his neck tighten, reciprocating the kiss with just as much vigor. She knows it won’t fix everything, but right now she’s done talking. Right now, she just wants to focus on every other quality of Blake’s mouth. It’s been too long.

His hands start feeling her up, careful when he approaches her sides, but she grabs onto his hands and puts it on her hips more firmly.

When she starts moving them up, he pulls back.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“You won’t.”

It’s like it’s the final encouragement he needs to finally get the show on the road, his large calloused hands stripping her of her clothes. He teases her breasts while continuing to suck marks on her neck, and she needs more of his closeness immediately. She manages at getting them in the bedroom, trying to strip Blake of his attire along the way.

When they’re both naked, he lays her down gently, careful to not hurt her in the process. Part of her wants him to be rougher, to make her feel it everywhere and just take her like she knows they both need, but she can’t argue with his gentleness in this moment either. He avoids her roughened skin along her sides and slides his hands up her stomach and chest, cupping her until she’s writhing and whimpering beneath him.

When she gets desperate enough for his liking, he kisses her while entering her in one smooth stroke. It’s been a while since they’ve been together like this, causing her to screw her eyes shut as she gets accustomed to his hard length inside of her. Once the slight burn gets replaced with sheer pleasure, she moves her hips up, signalling she needs more.

Blake complies eagerly, picking up speed and thrusting into her deliberately. He knows he hit her spot when she exclaims a high moan, her head falling backwards. She’ll never understand how he does this so easily; how he manages at unravelling her with the utmost ease and precision. She can already feel her orgasm coming in less than ten minutes, her hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Fuck baby, oh please.”

It’s mindboggling how he’s so hot but so gentle at the same time, his movements hard but still careful not to push her too far. His lips skim across her collarbone, up to her lips. She whimpers against his mouth, sharing mostly breath as she starts shaking.

“That’s it, Gwen. Come for me.”

She can’t keep her eyes open when her climax hits, her whole body shaking with the force of it. She feels Blake’s hands intertwining with hers, his hips continuing the onslaught of pleasure—making sure to draw the whole thing out for her. She can barely breathe, the whole thing too hot and too intense. His own hips start stuttering while he keeps thrusting softly, and she realizes he’s not far behind her. Finally opening her eyes again, she pulls his face towards her and whispers soft encouragements in his ear. She knows he loves when she gets a little needy, little desperate for him, and her words are usually enough to get him to tip over that edge when he’s close. She clamps down hard onto him again, biting her lip before telling him it’s okay to let go. He does immediately, grunting against her ear.

It’s that type of closeness that she missed so much, the feeling of their bodies becoming one and nothing else mattering but their love for each other.

They both regain some strength, reluctantly prying themselves off each other, but staying glued in each other’s arms. She doesn’t think she can talk yet, the overbearing emotions of the night combined with the mindblowing orgasm from a couple minutes ago, causing her to feel a little speechless.

Blake seems to feel the same way, as he keeps quiet too. The only form of communication in this moment are his arms tightening their hold on her, and her mouth pressing soft kisses onto his chest.

Maybe that’s all that needs to be said right now


	26. Buzzing Like That No Vacancy Sign

The air was sweetly warm, the mixture of cologne and artificial sprays holding the large area captive. People rush past them, not giving them so much as a look into their direction, too invested in getting the show up and running. The multiple dressing rooms are occupied, some artist occasionally poking their heads out to greet them. Blake’s hand is tightly holding on to hers, though he appears less than stressed. This is the first time in a long time she’s seen him completely at ease—and she feels it too.

He tugs her towards their own dressing room, occasionally stopping to shake hands with some of his peers. She loves how even when he does that, he never let’s go of her hand. Blake leads her into the spacious room reserved for them; some exotic flowers decorating the glass table in front of them, as do a few still sealed water bottles.

“Here we go again.” Blake smiles friendly, hugging his friend and manager who got there way before they did, apparently.

Gwen smiles at the scene, glad the two men managed to make up. She’d been worried about the state of their relationship, after Blake felt less than supported in his decision to see where things could lead with Gwen. The two men had grown closer together again when she got admitted to the hospital, though she learned of that way later. Brandon had convinced Blake to have drinks with him every two weeks now, rebuilding the friendship that was the foundation of their business partnership. She’s been on good terms with Blake for more than two months now, after they nearly broke due to her major freak out, and she had seen more of Brandon than she ever did before. He’d come over for dinner, invite them both to have drinks with him and his wife, and showed his unwavering support of her duet with Blake.

“You can’t convince me you haven’t missed this.” Brandon replies to Blake, smiling.

“Oh, I’m ready.” Blake chuckles as he embraces his friend, letting go of her hand for the first time since they got here.

His manager is dressed in an expensive suit for the occasion, Blake’s wearing fitting blue jeans and a black button down. Her own body is covered in a sparkly black dress, hugging her tightly. Her hair is loose, curled down perfectly over her shoulders. The contrast is definitely there, but Blake had convinced her that she needed to wear whatever felt right to her; people needed to see who _she_ was, instead of reducing her to one half of the public couple they suddenly turned into being.

The media had been an absolute frenzy; their relationship came out a week after she left the hospital, the story leaking before they could come up with a well formulated statement. It had certainly shot up her anxiety a bit, but luckily her own personal tragedies were spared on the local news, and as far as she knew, was still something only her, Blake and their close circle knew about. Blake’s album had come out two weeks ago, literally shooting up the charts and blowing his career into a whole new dimension. Though they started working on this album together nearly a year ago, it had felt crazy to hear the final products and have these songs out in the world for people to judge. Blake would refer to this body of work as _their_ album whenever he wasn’t promoting it in public. Brandon had quickly taken on to do the same—the whole thing giving Gwen that much more validation as a writer.

The duet was a surprise, the tracklist not listing her as a feature at the time his label released it to the press. She didn’t know what she expected from the reactions, but the overwhelming support from his fanbase and his peers wasn’t it. It’s been gratifying to say the least, but nothing compares to the pride and happiness she feels at the love Blake’s whole project is getting. She’s made it her personal rule to not let numbers and charts mean too much to her, but seeing Blake’s album at number one for the second week in a row, fills her heart with a joy that’s hard to ignore.

“Good to see you, Gwen.” Brandon says, opening his arms to pull her into an embrace of her own, and she goes willingly. He smells like heavy cologne and she chuckles when she realizes it’s been taking over much of the room.

“Thank you for making this happen.” She replies, pulling back. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Blake’s hand softly rubs at her lower back, before stilling there. “Thank you for agreeing, sweetheart. I know this is out of your comfort zone.”

“It’s just any other stage, right?” She tries to convince herself and loves when Blake catches on immediately.

“They don’t know what’s about to hit ‘em.” He speaks sweetly. “You’re going to blow their minds, Gwen.”

“He’s right.” Brandon cuts in. “Hell, I’ve seen him collaborate with other artist before, but you brought something to this song no one else has ever been able to do. People will be amazed at this—at the both of you.”

She smiles discreetly, not stopping him when he offers to leave them alone until show time. Blake sits down, screwing the lit off one of the bottles on the table and puts it to his lips slowly. She’s jealous of the way he’s totally calm, the prospect of singing with him on national television, a country song at that, has the butterflies raging in her stomach.

“I can feel you stressing yourself out.” Blake says, eying her from where he’s sitting next to her, the plush couch big enough for them both to _lie_ on, yet Blake’s pressed against her side like they need to share one cushion.

“I love the song. It’s so good.”

Blake smiles softly. “But...?”

She looks at him, his smile infectious. She doesn’t want to be the one bringing negative energy today, she wants to share Blake’s confidence in this moment and identify it as her own. They’ve recorded this song together; the end result is credited to both. She can do this.

“No but.” She smiles, leaning against the side of his body. “I’m excited.”

“You have nothing to worry about, you know?” Blake asks softly, not letting the opportunity to comfort her go to waste. “They’re gonna love you.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause _I_ love you.” He replies pointedly. “I love you as a person, but before that I started loving you as an artist. When you show people what you can do Gwen, it’s undeniable.”

She grins as her eyes water, the juxtaposition only something Blake can make her feel so easily.

“How is it that you always know just what to say?”

Blake snorts. “I wish that were true.”

“It is.” She nods, her hand reaching for his cheek and lowering his mouth to hers. His lips feel soft and slightly wet against hers, and she grunts in effort to not intensify it, remembering their surroundings. “And I love you too.”

He smiles against her lips, and though she’s still a bit nervous to hit the stage with him for the first time ever, she knows there’s no place she’d rather be either.

She sees the world as it is; a beautiful array of colours and shapes, ideas and formulas, love and fear. It's all a canvas that leaves just enough space for everyone to paint their own story on, their own lives in the whites of the world. Some painted out and off the canvas onto the walls if they dared and others painted in a smaller area than provided. And then there were those who ran their strokes over and into the lives of many others, creating something simultaneously beautiful. That’s who Blake is to her. That’s who he is right here, in front of his peers, debuting a song that’s so true to himself there’s no point in hiding himself ever again. Never again will he diminish himself for the purpose of fitting a mould he’s been made to fit in by fans and critics.

Her heart had initially dropped when the lights went down and they were ushered towards the stage, but one look from him had shown her this was exactly what she needed to be doing. It felt strangely familiar to walk up that stage with him, though they never before shared one. The familiar chords start playing the intro to their song and his smooth voice leads them into the first verse. She gets lost in the way he looks up there with her, his features soft and alluring, the emotional sentiment he brings to the lyrics causing her to get a little choked up. She swallows it down to the best of her ability, knowing she’ll have to come in with her harmony on the chorus, determined to match the quality in which Blake attacks the song.

_I've been a walking heartache_   
_I've made a mess of me_

_The person that I've been lately_   
_Ain't who I wanna be_

_But you stay here right beside me_   
_And watch as the storm blows through_

The moment her voice joins his, Blake’s eyes light up and his lips curve up just slightly. The moment causes some faint applause to flare up from the crowd, but she’s too entranced by the moment she’s sharing with him, that she barely recognizes it. Everything becomes a blur expect for them, expect for _this_. She lets Blake’s guitar playing lead her into the second verse, singing to him more than she’s singing _for_ anyone. The look in his eyes reminds her of her own, the music they create together deeper than anything else she’s ever known. It was gonna be hard to think about music and not think about him. They’re so entangled, so fused into her being, it was almost sickening. He’s such a part of her now and it becomes clearer with every note they sing, every chord he plays.

_Cause God gave me you for the ups and downs_   
_God gave me you for the days of doubt_

_And for when I think I lost my way_   
_There are no words here left to say, it’s true_

_God gave me you_

The song comes to an end, and she’s facing the audience to give them a quick nod and bow. She didn’t even realize she’d broken their gaze at some point, but she’s also not surprised. The entertainer in her would’ve wanted to bring the audience in, like she’d always been taught to do.

She smiles when Blake’s arm hooks around her back, pulling her into him. She lets herself be wrapped up in his embrace, stuttering just slightly when he leans down and captures her lips in a soft kiss. She didn’t expect him to be so open about their love and affection for each other, but she figures that after what they all witnessed in their eyes while singing, the little kiss at the end was the least of their concern.

She bites her lip when he pulls back, his lips still only centimetres from hers.

“You’re a dream, Gwen Stefani. Thank you.”

He speaks the words right there against her lips, his arm still around her back. She knows no one else was able to hear the words he just spoke, and it only adds to this moment that’s _theirs_.

She grabs his hand while he leads them off the stage, her legs feeling a bit wobbly as she realizes what they’ve just done. She can’t contain the smile on her face, unsure if she’ll ever feel this type of peacefulness ever again, the sensation overtaking her body like a liquid being injected into her veins.

“How long do we have to stay?”

Blake looks at her knowingly, handing off his guitar.

“How about we don’t?”

*

Their hotel room is large, the windows giving them a view of Vegas that’s magical, unreal even. She’d be getting lost in it by now if her mind wasn’t set on something else, _someone_ else. 

She smiles when she feels his hands slide around her waist, his lips planting firmly on her neck. She arches a bit to give him more room, gasping when he sucks at the tender skin he finds there.

“That was good, right?” She whispers, sinking into his chest. “The performance went good.”

He hums. “As expected with you by my side.”

She gasps again when he forcefully turns her around, his eyes looking at her with so much lust and longing it almost brings her to tears. This is what it must feel like to be truly adored, truly wanted. It’s both scary and completely addictive. 

“Blake.”

“Say it.” He whispers, his hand tugging at her hip to get her to step even closer to him. 

“Kiss me.”

And so he does. Hard and passionate. It backs her up against the wall, her hands gripping his curls. His tongue delves into her mouth, exploring every inch of her lips, her tongue. She’s panting by the time he tangles his fingers into her hair and pulls just slightly. She struggles to keep up with his passion, her hands seeking stability on his shoulders, but she wouldn’t want it any other way.

She has the audacity to pout when he pulls away, her breathing harsh and erratic. He smiles at her so wickedly, she feels the need to put one hand flat on the wall, waiting for his next move as she bites her lip. 

He leans in as if he’s about to kiss her again and she’s halfway there to meet him, when he puts two of his fingers against her lips. They linger there for a few seconds, teasing and touching, until she recognizes what he wants. She takes both fingers in her mouth, sucking slowly, gasping when his free hand tugs at her lace underwear underneath her dress. 

She looks at him confused when both the hand between her legs and the fingers in her mouth disappear. She’s about to ask him why he stopped, when she feels his two wet digits enter her slowly. 

She claws at the wall behind her again, eyes closing tightly. Though the pleasure is almost too much to take, she still attempts to slide her legs further apart.

“Oh God, Blake.”

Blake’s lips curve up at the sound of her moan, another whimper escaping her when he pushes harder. He’s hitting her spot repeatedly and the look on his face shows her he knows it. 

“You’re magical, you know that?” He whispers, kissing her neck and overstimulating her in every way. “Thank you for doing what you did tonight.”

She can’t believe he’s choosing this moment to get sentimental and she spasms forward into his chest when he flicks her clit, continuing to pump his two fingers in and out of her.

“You know what else made this night so special for me?” He asks, his voice so much steadier than she feels. 

She shakes her head, her throat too dry to talk.

“Knowing everyone in there was wondering how the hell I managed to get your pretty little hand in mine. Knowing everyone there wanted you, but I’m the one who gets to take you home, _I’m_ the one who gets to see you like this.”

His words are too much, her moans a continuous string now. 

“Blake, baby...”

“I had plans to get you in this room and skip all formalities, lay you down and fuck you till you were out of your mind...”

“Fuck!”

“But the way you moan for me so prettily when I touch you like this...” His fingers retract before slamming back in forcefully. “…. Made me reconsider.”

He knows what he’s doing; showing her how much he wants and needs her, all the while being controlling and a bit firm— driving her out of her mind with want.

“I’m so close, baby please.”

He nuzzles her neck, smiling. 

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

She tries to focus on the way he holds her, the way his lips taunt her neck, instead of the way his fingers sink into her so deliciously it makes her want to cry and come at the same time. Before she has time to process what’s happening, he’s retracting his fingers from inside her and stripping her from her clothes with a speed she only sees in the bedroom.

She almost wants to cry at the way he’s holding her, the way he’s ripping her chest open and displaying her heart for both to see. The way he makes love to her—fucks her—nothing short of miraculous. His hand on her throat is firm enough to be controlling, but loose enough for her to move out of his grip if it turns out to be too much. She loves how even when he’s possessive and rough like this, he’ll never fail to make her feel comfortable.

She feels her body losing its fight with the pleasure he ignites in her, her hips bucking up at him. The familiar tension at the beginning of her spine spirals out of control and her moans continue to fall from her lips religiously. Soft pleas and Blake’s name are the only two things she can remember to say, and when Blake leans down to nibble on her earlobe, she nearly combusts.

“Wait for me Gwen.” He purrs against her ear, her eyes welling up with the effort to keep her orgasm at bay.

She screams when he hits her spot again on purpose, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. He hisses at the slight burn, but pounds even harder as she knows her evident arousal turns him on beyond the tipping point.

“Blake please baby.” She whimpers, feeling her thighs shake with anticipation. “Please just let me— “

Her plea is cut off by his free hand winding in her hair and tugging just a little bit. Her head tips back some more, allowing him more access to mark her throat. “I’ll tell you when.” He orders before sucking and licking along the skin there.

It’s too much, it always is with him. Never before has she felt everything so deeply with someone, never did she know it could be _this_ good. They figured out quickly that they matched not only with music and personality, but inside the bedroom too. He fit just perfectly inside her and they could both keep up with each other’s intensity just fine. There’s just always a moment while they’re doing this, that she feels like she’s about to lose it; like he brings her to point of breaking and she can barely handle it. It’s a feeling she hopes she’ll never take for granted.

“Blake please.”

He shakes his head forcefully, snapping his hips harder. “No.”

With one hand on her throat and the other in her hair, she feels like she’s being tag teamed with pleasure. This dominant side of Blake something that will never fail to get her beyond aroused, the feeling of her juices coating her thighs only heightening her senses.

“I’m so close.” She whispers, unable to keep her body from twitching.

“You can’t come yet.”

“_Blake_.” She groans in frustration, throwing her head back.

She can hear him chuckle above her, but she doesn’t open her eyes to look at the smug look she knows will be there. She secretly loves it too, loves it when he gets like this and she’s no stranger to teasing him deliberately until she gets what she wants.

She loves soft and gentle, but she can’t help but crave his more animalistic side too.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this, baby.” He murmurs against her ear, licking along the shell. “So good to me.”

She moans in response to his words, unable to form coherent sentences any longer. She’s filled with the need to come, her whole body feeling like a wire that’s about to snap.

“I’ll do anything.” She hears herself say at some point, his lips and hands working her even closer to the edge. “Please Blake, please.”

She’s never begged this much in her life, but she can’t think of a worse punishment than having to wait for her orgasm for another minute longer. Her hand clutches at his chest, wanting to mark him the same way he does her, biting her lip so hard she can taste the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

He leans down instead, the new angle pressing against her clit all the while teasing her spot deep inside her. She screams again, a version of his name and multiple curse words tied together in one messy sentence. He captures her lips in an artless kiss, biting her bottom lip and tugging it slowly before releasing it again. She whimpers at the multiple sensations and stutters out broken words as she’s unable to keep some tears in.

Apparently, that’s what he was going for, because his lips curve softly against her cheek, his hand in her hair letting go. He kisses her now damp cheek, whispering an _I love you_ against her mouth. She wants to say it back desperately, but the words get stuck in her throat, pleasure the only thing she can focus on right now.

Blake thrusts into her harder, causing her mouth to fall open and her legs to slide further apart.

“_Ungh_, damnit Blake…”

“Say it back.” He rasps, his hand on her throat still there, still keeping her from finding that release she’s been scattering the edge of.

“Please.”

“Uh uh.” He shakes his head, and his determination in this moment reminds her a lot of his attitude in life. The way he performed with her earlier and the way he convinced her to record the duet with him in the first place. “I know you’re close, I know what you want. Just say the words sweetheart, come on.”

His words are spoken gently, but she can hear the demand in them regardless. She whimpers at the sound of it, her body useless and spent, just needing that one moment of total satisfaction.

“I love you.” She whispers, her eyes opening. “I love you so much.”

His grip on her is so tight, she wonders if he’ll leave permanent imprints, the feeling of him taking her out of her mind like this so powerful it makes her whole body tingle with love for him. She can barely take the way he smiles at her then, his hips still snapping into her in a relentless speed, his mouth nipping at her lips. She wants to beg him again, but something tells her she doesn’t have to. Just like that, his hand disappears from her throat, his kiss deepens as he seemingly searches for that spot inside her again that makes her see stars. She’s afraid to move, afraid she’ll mess up this perfect rhythm he’s got going on, and when her body starts shaking again, he merely smirks at her.

“Cum baby.”

It takes no longer than his words to escape his mouth for her to let go, the tremors taking over her body. She spasms forward, screaming into his chest as he holds her so impossibly close. He lays her back down gently, continuing his slow dance between her legs. She feels some more tears escape her eyes, the pleasure he’s still forcing out of her almost too much, but she can’t think of it stopping right now.

Looking down at her, the results of her orgasm still rippling through her seems to be enough for him to catch his one release. He shudders against her, a moan escaping his lips and she suddenly can’t wait to kiss him again. Like he can read her mind, he leans down and devours her mouth again with the last bit of strength he’s got left.

She loves how he always gives her all of him, even if he doesn’t have much more to give.

They both struggle for air, coming down from a high that neither one will ever be able to land from. He lowers himself to her side, laying against the matrass and waiting for her to curl up into him. It doesn’t take her long—it never does.

“God...” She whispers, finger tracing his heart. “You give me the most gorgeous sleep ever, cowboy.”

He chuckles. “At your service ma’am.”

“Oh yes you are.”

He continues to hold her tight and she can tell there’s something else on his mind.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks gently.

He looks at her, smiling so bright she can’t help but smile along.

“Just thinking about how great tonight was, how great you were. I really can’t thank you enough for being there with me, singing that song and being so honest in the way you did it.”

She should be used to his compliments by now, but somehow they still manage to take her by surprise.

Swallowing back tears, she sounds hoarse when she speaks.

“Thank you for asking me. I loved getting to do that with you, Blake. Music and you—it both just feels so natural, you know?”

Blake’s eyes bore into hers, his nod swift but precise. “I totally do.”

“I love you, like really.”

He chuckles. “I love you, _like really_, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're nearing the end of yet another story. I just want to thank all of you who still read any of my stuff, and for all the lovely comments and support this story has gotten over the months. This was an idea that took quite some brainstorming to get right (special thanks to Bea for helping me shape this story into what it is now). I'm usually my own worst critic, but I can honestly say I'm pretty happy with how this one turned out. The next -and last- chapter of this story is one of my favorites. Though the ending is a bit different from my usual fluffy ones, it's still very wholesome and full-circle. They finally found home together.


	27. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last one. I've been sappy on the previous chapter, so I won't say anything more. Enjoy!

They’re led straight from the hotel into the SUV, escaping the escapade of fans who managed to get a hold of Blake’s location. She’s still getting used to being in a relationship with a public figure, though her own exposure is quickly growing bigger too. It’s a weird dance, this navigating through life in the public eye. Blake seems to sense her struggle when seated into the large black vehicle and he nudges her arm softly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She smiles up at him, sighing deeply as she lets her whole body melt against his side. He wraps her up as much as he can in the confinement of the car, kissing her temple.

“It’s just a lot.”

He hums. “I know. I’m sorry, Gwen.”

She shakes her head quickly.

“Please don’t be sorry. This weekend has been amazing—performing with you, just being around you makes me happy. Not to mention what happened when we got back to the hotel...”

Blake chuckles. “The perfect ending to an already perfect night.”

She smiles against him, trying to block out the nerves that fame installed in her. It doesn’t always hit her that she’s part of this force now; this small component in a huge machine that’s meant to propel people into an almost inhumane state of exposure. She feels herself growing quiet again, letting the warmth of Blake’s body cover her gently.

His voice is soft and tinged with concern when he speaks again.

“It gets easier, you know? But if this is too much and you don’t want to do it again, then we don’t. We don’t have to go public often, I’m totally fine with just laying low, as long as you’re there.”

His words are so considerate they make her cry. She wipes some moisture away from her eyes, sniffing.

“It’s just our first big public outing.” She says, finding his gaze and portraying as much love and determination as possible. “I didn’t mind it, I liked it actually. It’s just kind of never ending…. I never truly realized that.”

“You don’t get to shut fame off, unfortunately.”

She squints her eyes. “You seem to have found a way.”

“I know it doesn’t shut off, but that’s the outside world. I still have my ranch, my family, _my_ world. When I’m focused on that, everything else kind of disappears.”

Her lips stretch wider into a grin, her body feeling all sorts of amazement for the handsome cowboy next to her. She knows he can sometimes be a little too caring, or a little too hot-headed, but she’s always taken aback by just how grounded he is. He’s got his head on straight, and that’s something she’s been missing way too much in her life.

“You might have to teach me how to do that.”

He smiles gently. “I’ll teach you whatever you want, darlin’.”

She can feel him squeezing his arm around her, her head lolling onto his shoulder. Sitting here like this, the world outside can be as cold and cruel as it wants to be. In here, everything is warm and safe.

*

It’s been too long since she’s been in Nashville, the place had become her home away from home and she couldn’t believe it had been two months since she last was here. When she moved back home, Blake and her made the agreement she’d come to stay with him every two weeks, not wanting more than fourteen days apart if they could manage it. With his album release and press tour, it just didn’t seem realistic to have him come to her. Her physical recovery had put a dent in their plans though, and despite Blake dropping everything to come be with her during those weeks, she’d missed Nashville like a limb.

When Blake suggested to go back here instead of LA after their performance, she couldn’t be happier. She’d missed his home too, even if she never spent much time there. It was just something about the vibe of it, the way Blake had managed to put his personal touches onto everything, making it feel incredibly authentic and different.

They decided on going back to the bar that had kick started her love for performing again, reminiscing and celebrating exactly how far they’ve come. It’s undeniably different now; people are more aware of her and their relationship being front cover news. Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with really any paparazzi back there, which let her anxiety slowly subside. Blake had run into a few of his friends, all of them glad to see him back there, and she feels a rush of guilt again at the thought of keeping Blake out in LA for so long—even if it wasn’t her choice.

He’ll always be more at ease here and it’s something they should definitely talk about. She almost doesn’t want to break the dreamy state of their relationship right now, but she knows their current living arrangements won’t work forever. Pushing that thought aside for a while, she mingles in with Blake’s friends, smiling when he’s already waiting for her to join. She engages in some small talk, stealing innocent touches from Blake as he keeps his arm securely around her waist, purely out of habit. She loves it.

She’s losing count quickly of the amount of drinks being passed around, but for once she decides not to care. She has no responsibilities for the rest of the evening, nor tomorrow. After the intense weekend they’ve had, indulging in a bit of alcohol is the least she deserves.

“We watched you on TV with him by the way.” One of his friends says to her once Blake had let go of her waist in favour of buying another round. “You guys killed that duet.”

Gwen’s smile reaches all the way to her eyes. “Thank you.”

“We’ve heard it totally pissed his ex off too.” He continues. “We’ve heard she made quite the scene when she heard it.”

All the sudden her anxieties from before creep back into her, the mention of Miranda completely unexpected and unwanted. She has enough to deal with between the growing frustrations of living in different states and dealing with her first round of fame. The thought of throwing his ex in the mix is almost enough to make her want to start crying on the spot. She pushes down the feeling in her gut, swallowing past the tightness in her throat.

She’s grateful when Blake comes back with their drinks, the shot glasses passed around quickly. She doesn’t even take a look at what she’s handed before she throws it back, the hot liquor gliding down her throat swiftly. She hears a few impressed sounds coming from the group, Blake’s eyes a bit surprised on her, though amused.

“You know we have time, right?” Blake chuckles at her.

“How about another one?” She asks instead, ignoring the question and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek to ease the sting.

She pushes herself towards the bar, ordering another shot and downing it before she even walks back towards the group. It’s becoming hard to glue herself to Blake’s side now, as his popularity in the bar only seems to grow, and she wonders how many people he can possibly know. Each visitor seemingly knowing him from something, or somewhere.

She decides to humour the others, trying to hold conversation while her impending intoxication grows stronger by the minute. When she’s convinced by one of his friends to order the next round, she’s slightly swaying but the nerves have completely evaporated from her body. The bartender moves away to mix the cocktails, when a husky twang hits her ears—but not Blake’s.

She looks to the side to find a younger looking man grinning down at her; he couldn’t be older than thirty, his brown hair reminding her a bit of Blake, but other than that he couldn’t be more different. The look on his face is borderline cocky, but she doesn’t let it deter her. She’s dealt with guys like this all her life, it doesn’t faze her. The alcohol coursing through her system also makes it undeniably easier to handle.

“A pretty girl like you should _not_ be buying her own drinks.” He says, speaking the words as if he just hit her with the best pick up line she’s ever heard.

She smiles. “They’re not my drinks.”

“Then at least let me buy yours.”

She shakes her head, but he’s already motioning for the bartender to take his order. He looks at her to fill him in on what to get, when she awkwardly bites her lip.

“I’m here with someone.”

“I don’t see anyone here buying you a drink.” He continues, letting his eyes do a quick one-up, completely ignoring her statement afterwards. “She’ll have what I’m having.”

“No really, it’s okay.” She shakes her head, making the mistake of putting her hand on his arm to show she appreciates the gesture.

Her unsteadiness makes it a bit harder to remove herself from the situation with her usual finesse, and it causes him to have just enough time to try and close some distance. Before she knows what’s happening, she feels a more familiar arm slide across the small of her back. Blake’s body purposely getting in between them.

“Everything okay here, baby?”

Relief crashes over her at being in his arms again, but the look on Blake’s face betrays the raging testosterone war that’s going on right now. He looks at the man next to him, his arm involuntarily tightening around her.

“It’s okay, he didn’t know.” She lies, steadying herself against him as she feels herself sway on her feet a little. She giggles at the sudden impact of her drinks.

“Sorry man.” The younger guy speaks to him, tone a bit cocky. “But to be fair, a beautiful lady standing all alone at the bar…. you can hardly blame me.”

She can tell Blake grits his teeth, and she’s relieved when the next words out of his mouth are nowhere near as vicious as the look in his eyes.

“At least you have taste.”

He ushers her away from the bar and she goes willingly, her hand sliding across his waist—both to steady her but also because she loves the touch.

Both of them appear surprised when the younger man’s voice reaches their ears again, Blake’s eyes narrowing.

“You know, you really shouldn’t leave a hot thing like that alone for too long, you might just lose your lady.”

Blake’s reply comes fast, leaving no time to waste. “Hey man, take it easy.”

He ignores Blake’s statement completely, looking past him to meet Gwen’s gaze.

“If this doesn’t work out somehow, you know where to find me.”

Gwen’s mouth opens in silent shock, realizing the guy must be drunker than she initially thought he was, his brazenness and slight chuckle while delivering those words telling her as much. Blake’s not as quick to find reasoning behind the man’s action and loses the control he harboured for the last few minutes quickly. The tug on his arm is futile, but she couldn’t help herself from at least trying.

Blake’s finger points at the guy in warning, his body turned around to face him.

“That's enough, I’m serious. Don't try me."

Gwen bites her lip while continuing to softly tug at his arm, sighing contently when he steps back into her embrace again.

The guy throws his hands up. “I’m just playing, no need to get your panties in a twist.”

She can feel Blake’s tense demeanour next to her, and she does her best to steer them away from this situation.

“Let’s get out of here.” She whispers, leaning up so she can whisper in his ear. “Let’s go, Blakey. Take me home?”

The way in which she speaks the words are just on the side of needy, and she almost chuckles when she sees his resolve weakening on the spot. As much as he’s tempted to pick a fight with the cocky man at the bar, the prospect of getting his girl home is much more appealing.

“Let’s just say our quick goodbye’s and head out of here.”

His friends seem less than surprised to find them be the first two to leave, some flirty winks and inappropriate comments being tossed around. Gwen usually would’ve been horrified, but the drinks in her system cause her to giggle at it all. She loves how Blake doesn’t let go of her hand once, and she wonders if he’s still fighting some left-over jealousy or if he’s just so used to having her tiny hand in his.

The car gets them back home in no time, a breath of relief passing her lips as she stumbles over the doormat. She loves this house and it has nothing to do with the infrastructure or internal design of the place. She loses her shoes and jackets, her feet slightly sore from the heels she’s been wearing all night. She lets out a soft moan when her feet are freed from their confinement and she can see Blake smiling at the sight.

She’s quickly reminded of the fact that they’re alone and how seeing Blake stand up for her like he did back in the bar, stirring some passionate feelings low in her stomach. She saunters over to him with clear intentions, but Blake just chuckles lowly while placing both hands steady on her hips.

“Baby, you’re drunk.”

“And you’re stating the obvious.” She smiles, hands sliding across his lower stomach until she reaches his belt. She fumbles with the metal, smirking when she pulls the belt out of the loops and slides her hand lower to cup his growing erection.

Blake grunts. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing yet.” She whispers, pulling down his zipper. “I’m trying to change that in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He shakes his head, his hand once again stopping her movements.

“I’m not talking about _this_.” He says, his free hand cupping her cheek. “You seemed a bit out of it tonight, different.”

The last thing she wants to do right now is talk feelings and she tries hard at deterring him from the idea as well.

“Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all night, Blake.” She murmurs lowly, licking her lips before pushing her chest up against his. “Maybe I’ve been distracted by the thought of you pinning me down when we got home, fucking me, making me yours.”

She knows what she’s doing; using his earlier frustrations at the bar and tipping him over the breaking point. She’s not surprised to find his hands in her hair next, but the intensity in which he crashes their lips together makes her gasp unexpectantly. He moves her backwards against the wall, his hands around her waist almost feeling possessive. Her mouth tingles when they finally pull away, her breathing already unsteady.

“Blake _pl_— “

“I know what you’re doing.” He whispers slowly, skimming his nose against her throat and chin, placing a random kiss to the side of her mouth. “Seducing me, trying to distract, run...”

“I’m not running.” She breathes, a soft moan escaping her lips when Blake sucks at her pulse point.

“Oh, but you are.” He replies, his body rolling into her softly, backing her up even more. “What happened tonight, Gwen?”

She shakes her head, her mind spinning by the way he’s determined to have this conversation in their current state. His lips are still on her neck, her body fighting the trembles his touches evoke so easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What happened that you wanted to forget so badly, you decided to get shit faced?”

It’s unfair the amount of pleasure she’s already experiencing by Blake’s deliberate and gentle mouth on her skin, sucking and licking around her skin. Her breathing is coming out in irregular spurts and she tries bucking up at him, needing more friction, more _anything_.

“Sometimes a girl just feels like getting drunk.”

Blake looks at her with a smile that confuses her, her hands pressing back against the wall as she awaits his next move. When he doesn’t do anything but look at her for a few seconds, she tries at tugging him forward again, one hand sliding behind his head and forcing him towards her. Instead of kissing her like she hoped, he kisses along her chin and cheek, sliding down to his knees in front of her in one swift movement.

She gasps, his hands pushing up the thin fabric of her shirt, exposing smooth skin. His mouth latches onto her stomach, kissing softly and licking at her belly button. Every single one of his movements has surprised her so far, and it leaves her without the ability to speak for a moment. His mouth lowers to the waistband of her jeans, her breath hitching when his mouth cups her over her denim covered core.

She grinds her hips up into him, nearly crying when he holds her hips still with both hands. He continues to kiss and lick at her legs, her thighs, her center, never once removing the layer of clothes. She’s quickly realizing this is not his usual going down on her, and whatever he’s planning will be much harder to take, realer than anything she’s ever felt before.

“People have hurt you.” He whispers against her jean-covered thigh, her eyes widening. “They’ve lied, made you feel unsafe…”

She opens her mouth to say something but no sounds come out, all she can focus on is the way Blake’s still gently touching her with his mouth and the words he decides to speak.

“You think it’s easier to give me your body than a piece of your mind, thinking that the only way to be perceived as strong is to always be in control.” His words drip from his lips like water, the words so gently spoken yet so hard hitting she feels herself winding up. “And though I’m incredibly lucky I’m the one you decided to give your body to, I want more—so much more, Gwen.”

“Blake.” She whimpers weakly. “_Please_.”

He kisses her stomach again, his hand this time sliding between her legs, rubbing just once at the damp fabric of her jeans. Her eyes close tightly, but Blake demands them open.

“Look at me.”

She forces her gaze down to him on his knees.

“Look where I am. Look where you are.”

She frowns at him, the words not making any sense. She feels like her mind must be going crazy as she tries to focus on both his words and the actions of his mouth and fingers.

“Blake?”

“You can tell me anything, you know that. It’s up to you. You already know I’m yours.”

And suddenly it hits her. Tears spring to her eyes when she finally realizes what he’s doing.

He purposely levelled himself with the ground, keeping her upright in front of him. He wants her to talk to him, not because he’s looking for a fight or a way to dismiss her. He wants her to talk because she _can_, because she’s safe. She’s no longer the one being held down, but instead he gives up all control in the most primal way there is. He showers her body with soft kisses and gentle licks, instead of stripping her naked and forcing her body to succumb to the pleasures only he can ignite within her. He gives her the view of him _literally_ at her feet, the only power he holds in this position is one of love and trust. She holds the reigns.

It’s the most selfless, most thoughtful thing he could’ve done for her in the moment.

“Your friend tonight….” She says softly, carefully trying to find her voice. “She told me Miranda saw our performance. That she made a scene.”

Blake’s gentle kiss on her stomach doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even flinch at the mention of his ex’s name. Instead he looks at her softly, nodding.

“Okay.”

“Not okay.” She retorts quickly, her voice still soft and subdued. “She’s already tried to mess with you once, trying to screw up your reputation when she realized you were seeing me. What if I’m once again the reason she’ll try to come after you? I can’t do that to you a second time.”

His hands rub at her waist, kneading the soft skin and nudging her until she’s looking him in the eye again.

“We wrote an amazing song together. People absolutely loved the performance. I couldn’t care less about the opinion of my ex.”

“You just got back into people’s good graces.”

He smiles up at her, kissing her inner thigh. “Am I still in your good graces?”

“Blake, stop, you already know.”

“Do you still love me as much as you did yesterday?”

She frowns. “Of course.”

“Do you still see yourself loving me tomorrow?”

“Blake, of course.”

“Then that’s all I care about.” He states simply, reaching for her hand and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. “I don’t care about anything else, not anymore, not after realizing how fickle this whole industry thing is.”

“But you love your career.”

“And I’d pick you over it every single time.”

Her breath hitches again, her eyes tearing up rapidly.

Blake catches her gaze again, softly pulling himself up from his scrunched down place on the floor. Once he’s back on two feet, he leans forward to softly peck her lips.

“But if you really believe that one of her meltdowns is gonna be enough to jeopardize my whole career, you’re seriously giving her too much power. Besides, I’ve had _the_ Gwen Stefani beside me, performing with me—if that didn’t solidify me in some capacity, I don’t know what will.”

Her hand cups his cheek, her forehead lowering to his.

“How are you this good to me?”

“Because you deserve it.” He smiles, pecking her lips again. “And because I realize I’ve way outkicked my coverage.”

“You’re crazy.”

“About you? Yes.”

She laughs, her mouth seeking his out again, this time deepening it a little. They separate briefly for air and she takes the opportunity to trail her fingertips across the edge of his cheekbones.

“I’m not running again.” She says, referring to his earlier comment. “I just want you to know that. I might get scared sometimes, but I know where I want to be.”

His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “And where is that?”

Her hand slides down to his chest, resting right over his heart. She can tell the gesture is understood by the way he falls quiet.

“Right here.”

He swallows down what she thinks might be a lump in his throat, his arms snagging around her waist again and tugging her into him. Her arms fall to his shoulders as she gets lost in his kiss again, gentle and so full of love. She can feel it pouring out of her, wrapping around them until everything else becomes completely inconsequential.

“Blake.” She murmurs against his lips, chuckling when he’s reluctant to stop making out with her. She’d feel bad if she didn’t know her next words were gonna be the final seal of commitment. “I want to move in with you.”

His lips freeze against hers, his arms loosening just a tad around her.

“What?”

He sounds dumbfounded, his eyes wide and shocked.

“I know you might think it’s fast, but I can’t deal with the distance between us for much longer. I know you don’t like LA, and that’s okay, I don’t even think _I_ do anymore. I mean, it’s where I grew up but it no longer feels like home, you know? _You_ do.”

The look on his face is hard to read and she suddenly grows nervous; did she mess it up? Was he not ready? Did she just spill too much of her own needs on him, without gauging if he was up for it?

“Gwen, please tell me you’re not still drunk and you won’t remember any of this in the morning, because I swear to God…”

She chuckles. “Cowboy, I mean it. I’m not saying this cause I had a few too many. I’m saying this cause I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Because I finally want to come home and actually feel it. Home is with you.” She whispers, that single truth haunting her for the last few months and feeling so good to finally speak out loud. “Home is here.”

“I love you. Jesus Christ Gwen, do you even know how much?”

Before she’s even able to answer his passionate question, he’s talking again.

“We’re gonna talk about this afterwards, but I need to make love to you. Right now. I need you.”

His desperate plea is clear, and she feels it all the same. They can talk about moving in all night long, all morning long. But the physical need to be together overwhelms her too, and in some ways, it says everything they can’t express in words.

Holding onto his shoulders, she pushes herself up so she can wrap her legs around his waist, her arms now sliding around his neck. His eyes shine with familiar longing and she can’t wait any longer.

“Take me upstairs.”


End file.
